


Mein Tier

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Mein Teil, Bathing/Washing, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dehumanization, Discipline, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Pet, Multi, Physical Abuse, Scent Kink, Vaginal Sex, Videotaping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-03-18 07:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Frau Schneider keeps to herself, unusually so. Her weekly life consists only of work, and staying at home. Unbeknownst to the people around her, Schneider goes home every day to five loyal dogs. Dogs who are unaware of their state of captivity. Dogs who are not truly dogs, but men with their humanity deteriorated to that of beasts. But they are more than happy to be cared for by their neurotic, loving master.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, here's a fucked up AU where sociopathic fem!Schneider keeps the others captive in her home! How fun. Anyways, Schneider isn't just crossdressing in this; I decided to genderbend her for this AU.
> 
> I don't know how much I plan to write for this AU. Hope you like this cute fluff with underlying malice!

The sun is beginning to set. On the drive back, it hung low in the sky, casting deep, sorbet colors throughout the sky, and _also_ directly into her face—that's one thing she doesn't like about coming home from work. The sun is always in her eyes.

Once she manages to escape the bustle of city traffic, into the quiet comfort of the neighborhood, she soon thereafter pulls into the driveway. The car is then turned off, her bag and coat is gathered, and she's stepping out with a click of her heel against the pavement. After the car is locked and her skirt is adjusted, Schneider begins towards her front door, stepping across the stone pathway decorated by the flowers she had planted.

At the front door, she stands quietly. Carefully opening her purse, she reaches in with red, manicured fingers to find her keys. She hears no shuffling, no growling, no whining. Just peaceful silence. With a deep exhale, she enjoys that silence for another few moments as she locates her keys. And then, lifting them out from within her bag, the keys jingle and noisily click together.

Immediately after she begins sifting through them, the pounding and scuffle of many hands and feet making their way to the door reaches her ears, joined by the high-pitched whines of her dogs, punctuated by a warning snarl from what sounded like Paul. Schneider finally locates the correct key and manages to unlock the front door to her quaint home.

Carefully pushing it open, she's immediately greeted by the delighted, radiant face of Richard, and then Paul's glaring face which shifts to glee, followed by Till, and Flake, and Oliver. They begin to whine with greater volume. Without hesitation, Paul and Richard reach out to curl hands and arms around her legs, shifting closer to rub their faces against the pantyhose clinging to her legs. She barely manages to step inside and shut the door behind herself. Meanwhile, Flake and Oliver are patiently waiting for her to get settled and comfortable, unlike the other three.

As she's preoccupied with locking the door, Till angles himself to stick his face under her skirt, which has her sighing in exasperation and firmly stating with a snap of her fingers and a displeased expression on her slender face, _“Down._ Boys, give me just a _moment.”_

Paul and Richard both whine and look up at her with pouting expressions—Till just sits back and sets his fists against his folded legs, his expression darkened into a displeased glare. Schneider tilts her head and looks down at them with impatience.

“I know, _I know_. Be good, and get out of my _way_.”

She points towards where Flake and Ollie politely sit, kneeling. Oliver's hands rest in his lap, Flake's slender arms crossed. They watch Schneider with anxious expressions; she knows they want attention too, but it will have to wait. Richard and Paul obediently let her go and crawl away, to petulantly sit next to Flake and Oliver. Paul is whining with a pout on his face, though Richard is silently dejected.

Till continues kneeling at Schneider's feet, though he's keeping his hands to himself. Schneider peeks over at him as she leans over to pull off her heels. He huffs and stares at her with his green eyes unhappy and equally demanding, which has her arching a brow at him, a faint amused look in her blue eyes. Till turns and grumpily crawls away to join the others. Schneider smiles to herself as she sets her shoes in the closet by the front door, soon joined by her coat.

As she paces towards her bedroom, purse slung over her shoulder, she runs her fingers through her curled hair to begin removing bobby pins.

“You're welcome to join me in my bedroom,” she calls, which is predictably followed by the excited clambering of her boys.

They rush past her, nearly tripping her in the process, to pace impatiently at her closed door. Reaching out, Schneider turns the knob and pushes it open. Paul and Richard shove inside, and immediately charge for the bed. They enthusiastically jump up. As territorial as he is, Paul shoves Richard over and tries to take up as much room as possible. Meanwhile, Till silently follows Schneider to her vanity dresser. Flake joins the other two on the bed to hug one of her pillows to himself, propped against the headboard, while Oliver remains seated on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Till kneels quietly and respectfully at her feet, gazing up with calm, curious eyes as she plucks bobby pins out of her hair.

Progressively, her [tight curls loosen](https://78.media.tumblr.com/51aa4280a0abb9af5f37dd65e6fef689/tumblr_p44xurvVLL1rvajymo1_540.jpg) to fall a little lower around her jaw. Till, at one point, slowly strokes a broad hand up the back of her calf, which she allows, and ignores. Schneider sees Paul begin to wrestle with Richard on her bed through the reflection of her mirror, punctuated by Richard's laughter and Paul's playful growling. It began with Paul attempting to pin his arms down, though once it intensifies into biting each other, she sighs with disapproval. _Every time_ they get on her bed, they do this, and _every time_ it results in her sheets getting torn or drooled on.

“If you're going to roughhouse, do it on the floor,” she scolds, which earns quick glances from the two—Paul has Richard's hand between his teeth. She eyes them with displeasure over her shoulder and then begins towards her closet, with Till at her heels. She hears some low growling from Paul, though the two boys seem to calm down. As Schneider begins unbuttoning her blazer, she feels broad fingers curl around her ankles, gently.

She manages to ignore Till's touching as she removes her blazer and hangs it up, though once he sinks his blunt fingernails into her stockings and begins pulling, she sighs and looks down at him with a frown. Till is gazing up at her with an intense look in his green eyes. She points to the bed with a stern expression on her face, which earns a frown from the dog at her feet. He obediently takes his hands away from her and turns to crawl to the bed, lackluster and with blatant dejection. When he climbs up onto the bed, Paul immediately pushes at him to keep him away from _his_ space, but Till snarling deep from within his throat has the others giving him _plenty_ of room.

Schneider silently unravels her floral silk scarf and reaches out to set it on her vanity dresser. She removes her pearl necklace and matching earrings, and rests them atop the scarf. Left in her sheer white blouse, she begins to unbutton it, to gradually reveal pale, dotted skin. She hangs the blouse, now wearing only a lacy bra, her skirt, and her pantyhose.

Unzipping the side of the skirt, she brings it down to step out of it, which she then hangs with the blazer. Following the skirt is her pantyhose—she has little patience with it. Taking a seat at her vanity mirror, she tries to repress her irritation with the stockings as she rolls them down and off her legs. The boys on the bed have grown silent, which of course she had noticed, and with a subtle glance over her shoulder, she catches them all silently staring with varying levels of intensity.

Smiling faintly to herself, Schneider rises from the seat at her vanity mirror, her modesty maintained only by her white, lacy bra and matching panties that pleasantly accentuate her body. She's not quite as slender and smooth as she used to be: her stomach is soft and bears a slight pouch, her skin shows the slight wrinkles of age, while her breasts aren't quite as perky as they used to be. Though her legs are still beautiful and long, her arms slender, and face graceful. But her pups don't care about the “flaws” of her aging body. They all think she's gorgeous beyond any form of measurement.

With a stroke of her manicured fingers, Schneider tucks her wavy blonde locks behind an ear and then reaches back with both hands to unhook her bra. With her gaze panning across the awed faces of her boys, she lets the article of clothing slip down and off her arms, letting her breasts rest against her ribcage. They're rather average sized, but their charm compensate for that; they're decorated with pretty birthmarks, her nipples soft and colored a dusky pink. She drapes the bra over the back of the seat at her vanity and then steps out of her panties, exposing the entirety of her body to them.

“I'm going to take a shower,” Schneider speaks up, breaking the long silence as she steps up to the laundry hamper resting beside the door of the adjoined bathroom. She sets her panties inside it—she imagines they won't stay in there for long. She turns to her boys and says with faint amusement, “Then I'll cook you all your dinner. Be good while I'm gone.”

Four of them are staring at different parts of her—Richard's, Paul's, and Till's gazes are all noticeably south, while Oliver is boldly meeting her gaze. Flake is staring at the pillow in his arms. With finality, Schneider turns and steps into her bathroom with a lock of the door behind herself.

 

After a ten minute shower, Schneider emerges from the bathroom with a robe on and a red towel swept around her wet curls. Standing at the ajar door of the bathroom, she crosses her arms. Flake and Oliver are missing. Paul is still seated on the bed, though an expression of concern is on his face. On the floor, Schneider sees Richard rolling weakly on his back, his hand clutching at his forehead. There's blood on his lips. Glancing over, she notices Till is sitting inside her closet, his arms wrapped around his legs, knees raised and cold gaze trained on Richard. His eyes flick up to meet hers.

Sighing, Schneider steps up to Richard and kneels beside him, earning a weak, disoriented glance from him. Reaching out, she gently grabs his wrist and takes his hand—his face is flushed and his lip is cut, thus the blood on his face. Till must have smacked him again. Richard whines and looks up at her with a pleading expression. Schneider gives him a faint smile and says, “Come here, baby.”

She opens her arms, which prompts Richard to sluggishly prop up on an elbow, if only to collapse into her arms. He whimpers and wraps his muscular arms around her. Schneider curls one arm around him, hand raising to run her fingers through his black locks, with her other arm resting along the slope of his back. Schneider looks at Till with disapproval on her face. Till glances away and huffs.

Paul jumps down from the bed to kneel beside Richard and Schneider. He leans in to nuzzle his face against Richard's shoulder, earning a weak glance from him. Schneider pets Richard's hair a moment longer and then gently removes herself from his embrace—he whimpers a little, distraught with her departure, but Paul easily takes her place, distracting him. Schneider stands again and approaches her dresser.

She pulls open the top drawer and reaches in to take out the riding crop she keeps in there for convenience. She has an additional two, kept with her collection of whips and gags in another room. But _this_ riding crop is meant just for this purpose. She grips it tightly in her hand as she paces towards Till, who watches her silently from where he sits in the darkness of her closet.

“Would you like to spend the rest of your evening in the kennel, Till?” Schneider asks lowly, standing over him now. She reaches out to carefully, gently stroke the leather of the crop along his cheek. Till begins to shake slightly, his cold, green eyes trained up on her. His long bangs are in his eyes, his jaw clenched and full lips in a tense line. She speaks softly, her eyes narrowing, “Or shall I punish you through lashing?”

Till doesn't move or make a sound. He just stares at her, unwaveringly, challengingly. Schneider moves to kneel in front of him, tucking the riding crop under her arm. Reaching out, she hooks two fingers into the o-ring of his collar, pulling him closer with force. Till grunts and plants his hand against the floor for stability. He looks at her with a weaker gaze in his eyes. Schneider searches his face as she murmurs lowly, “You were my good boy, Till. What happened? Is punishment all you want from me now? Good boys are rewarded, sweetheart. Show me you can be good.”

Seemingly ashamed, Till looks away with a slight turn of his head, his lips pressed together and brow furrowing. His long black locks conceal some of his rugged face. Schneider releases his collar and rises.

“Come,” she growls, readjusting her grip on her crop with the promise of use if he disobeys. Till silently moves onto his hands and feet and crawls out of her bedroom, head lowered and body made small. Schneider walks him to the large kennels lining a wall of the living room. There, she snaps her fingers, earning a timid glance from the dog.

“Sit, and stay. I'm going to go get your muzzle.”

She notices Till clench his jaw with displeasure, his eyes hardening. Though he doesn't do anything more. She waits for him to kneel, hands on his thighs, before she turns and enters the second bedroom, where they all sleep. Grabbing one of the hanging muzzles off the hook on the wall, Schneider exits the bedroom again and rejoins Till at the kennels. He sits silently with tension, his head lowered and hands in fists. Schneider reaches out to tip his head back with her fingers underneath his chin. He looks up at her with subtle pleading in his gaze.

Schneider silently and diligently fastens the metal basket muzzle around the lower half of his face by buckling it in the back, and locking the small padlock in place—she knows just how much he struggles to get it off of himself, thus the padlock. He grimaces with discomfort and lets out the slightest grumble of protest, his lip curling a little. She pinches his earlobe, hard enough to hurt, which earns an alert glance from his irritated eyes.

“Shut your mouth,” Schneider snaps, becoming impatient with his blatant objections, “Now get in the kennel.”

Once she opens the door to his kennel and lets him go, Till jerks away from her and grumpily shoves his way into the kennel. She frowns, watching him curl up on the dog bed inside, pulling the blanket over himself completely. Silently, Schneider shuts and locks the kennel door. She watches him for a moment, suddenly melancholic. He's motionless and silent, unmoving. Schneider wishes he would just get along with the others. She doesn't want to punish him like this.

With a sigh, she turns away and begins towards her bedroom again.

 

After comforting Richard with Paul's help, she encourages the both of them to rejoin the others in the living room. Once they obey and take their leave, Schneider redresses into comfortable jeans and an oversized sweater. She blowdries her hair and runs a brush through it before departing from her bedroom as well.

In the living room, she finds Richard and Paul seated on the sectional, curled up and watching whichever movie they put on from the generous collection Schneider has—and only has for _their_ enjoyment considering they're stuck inside all the time. They perk up when they notice her arrival. As she passes the sectional to reach the kitchen, she ruffles their hair, which has them both happily turning towards her hand. Flake and Oliver are seated at the expansive window in the dining area, atop the cushions previously placed there just for them. They're gazing out at the scenery of the darkening sky, as they typically do.

Now standing in the kitchen, Schneider considers what to make them for dinner.

 

It takes nearly half an hour to prepare the combination of skillet fried potatoes, diced steak, carrots, green beans, and steamed broccoli. Like every single day, her pups all swarm at the smell of cooking food. They sit, kneeling, at her feet as she fries the potatoes in the pan.

Paul and Richard nudge her legs while whining, and it encourages her to slyly hold out a cooled potato wedge. She watches with a faint smile as Paul lunges up, pushing at Richard meanwhile, to bite it between his teeth—he accidentally nicks her fingertips in the process and it has her clicking her tongue with disapproval. Richard scowls at Paul as Paul happily chews, until Schneider mercifully held a piece in front of him. Richard beams and then arches up to take it gently, delicately into his mouth, his happy green eyes trained up on her smiling face. Just to be fair, Schneider coaxes Flake and Oliver closer and feeds them both pieces—Flake ends up dropping it and eating it off the floor, while Oliver silently takes it in his mouth from her fingers with a thankfulness in his cool eyes.

After portioning it all into five dog bowls, Schneider navigates between her pups crowding around her, to reach their eating area. She sets the labeled bowls down in a line, joined by their individual water bowls. Only after does she stand and snap her fingers do they rush up to kneel at their bowls, some more enthusiastic than the others.

She stands nearby, hands on her hips, as she watches her boys dig into the meal they've been waiting for ever since she came home from work. Then she turns to grab the last bowl of dog food from the counter. She paces out into the living room, towards the line of kennels. There, she stops at Till's and goes through the process of unlocking and opening the door. Till perks up slightly and peers back at her from under the blanket. Giving him an acknowledging glance, Schneider sets the bowl of dog food in the corner of the kennel.

“Come here,” she orders, snapping her fingers as she withdraws the key from the pocket of her jeans. Till hesitates, but then reluctantly moves to sit up. He shifts closer towards her in the dog bed, eyes dejectedly downcast. Schneider reaches out to unlock the padlock on the back of the basket muzzle. Till is silent and unmoving as she unbuckles it and removes it entirely. Schneider continues kneeling at the open door, muzzle in her hands, and just watches her puppy silently, her jaw clenched and eyes hard. Till is sitting back on his calves with the blanket draped haphazardly over his legs, his hands in his lap with his head turned to the side, eyes averted.

“Will you be good, Till, if I let you out after eating?” she asks firmly, watching his face. Till flicks his gaze up to look at her fleetingly, and then stares at his lap. He nods a little. Schneider lets out a sigh and then says, “Good. I'll come check on you once I'm done.”

Then she shuts and locks the door again. Till peeks up at her past his long bangs as she rises and strides away, to once again reenter the kitchen.

There, she grabs her own plate waiting for her on the countertop. Once seated at the dining table, she crosses her legs and flips open the magazine that had sat on the table, waiting for her. Meanwhile, the other pups eat noisily, accompanied occasionally by Paul's territorial growls.

 

After the food has been consumed, Schneider leads the boys into their bedroom for their post-meal nap. Once the four of them calm down and get settled, she reenters the living room and approaches Till's kennel. Peering in, she notices his food bowl is empty, and he's bundled up under the blanket again. Schneider silently opens the door and reaches in to take the bowl. Till peeks at her. She gives him a faint smile and says, “Come out and go take your nap.”

Till nods and immediately clambers out of the kennel. The blanket is dragged out by his legs, so Schneider grabs it and sets it back in the dog bed before closing the kennel again. She glances over to see Till in the hallway, nudging his way into their bedroom, soon to disappear within. Schneider silently paces out into the hallway to shut the door behind him. Then, she takes his bowl to the sink, where the other dirty dishes wait.

Now alone and in peace, Schneider cleans their food bowls at the sink, loads the dishwasher with her used dishware, and refills their water bowls. Considering the absence of her pups, she takes this opportunity of isolation to reenter her bedroom and grab her laptop, to check her email.

 

Half an hour later, which consisted of her writing up response emails, she finishes up and closes her laptop again. For a moment, Schneider sits there with her manicured fingernails tapping along the closed lid of the laptop, her gaze trained distantly on the door. She contemplates what to do. She could read while the pups nap, she could clean up the kitchen, she could do a load of laundry like she's been meaning to do today...

Instead, Schneider rises from the bed and steps out of her bedroom. She approaches the closed door of the boys' room. Quietly, with a careful opening of the door, she peeks inside to see them all bundled up and strewn about across the two king-sized futon mattresses lining the floor. Paul is laying over Till and Oliver, while Richard clings to Till's legs. Flake is curled up with his back pressed to Richard's. They're swarmed with blankets.

With the soft illumination of the hallway light pouring into the room, Schneider can see Paul weakly lift his head and look at her with disoriented confusion. His hair is a mess and sticking up wildly. She smiles faintly and enters the room. Shutting the door behind herself, Schneider brushes her wavy locks out of her face as she steps onto the futon mattresses, avoiding limbs along the way to the center of the pile.

The boys shift slightly from her disturbance, seemingly unaware of who joined, until she clears her throat and asks, “Any room for me?”

That has them perking up and looking up at her with surprise. She stands between Till and Ollie, arms crossed. Richard lets go of Till's legs and readjusts himself so he's at equal height to everyone else, while scooting aside to give more room. Till watches her closely as he shifts to the side, while Paul scrambles off of Till and Oliver to lay vertically, like the others. Oliver silently moves to give her room, as well. Flake is the only one who hadn't moved—he sticks to his side of the bed. Schneider nods with approval and then moves to lay between Till and Paul. She grabs a pillow and tucks it under her head.

Without hesitance, Till closes the distance and wraps an arm around her midsection with his broad hand cupping her side, while resting his cheek against her shoulder. Paul seems to fidget beside her with uncertainty, his hands clenching repeatedly on his stomach, before he shyly reaches down to take Schneider's hand in his own. Schneider closes her eyes and smiles faintly. Richard's hand ends up on her belly, slipping underneath her sweater to feel her soft skin.

The six of them end up all tangled together—even Oliver turns on his side and reaches out across Paul to rest his hand on Schneider's arm, while Flake subtly scoots back so he's pressed up against Richard again. Schneider soon becomes overheated and overcrowded, but it feels good to lay with her boys, so she withstands it simply for the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider grooms her dogs.

The slow snipping of scissors fills in the silence of the bathroom. Dark hair falls to collect at Schneider's feet and on Paul's thighs, until Paul's lap is decorated with the clippings—Schneider did drape a towel around him, though it's not catching all of it. Paul begins playing silently with the short bits of hair, easily amused as he tends to be. Schneider navigates around him as she trims his hair, until it's the short, neat hairstyle he prefers. It's messy right now considering she had been running her fingers through it, though that will be dealt with soon enough.

She evens out the hair in the back with a clipper, a buzzing replacing the snipping of the scissors—it has Paul fidgeting, like it typically does, until he's leaning forward out of it with an uncomfortable shake of his head. Schneider sighs and says, “I'm almost done. Hold still.”

Gently, she curls a hand around the front of his neck and waits for him to lean back against the chair again; which he does, while his hands fidget in his lap. Schneider is quick to run it through the back of his hair, evening out the length, until she deems it good enough and switches off the clipper. Paul vigorously shakes his head again, trying to get rid of the tingling feeling left behind from the clipper's vibrations. Schneider begins raking her fingernails through his hair at the back of his head, which has him stilling and melting a bit. She smiles faintly to herself as she ruffles his hair, which has a burst of hair raining down on his thighs. He grumbles and brushes it off.

“Let's get you in the bath, sweetheart,” Schneider says softly, which earns a glance over Paul's shoulder—he's grimacing with a curled lip. Schneider gives him a pointed look as she rounds him and the chair to begin towards the bathtub. Reaching out, she twists the handle, followed by a burst of water that begins to drum against the base of the tub. Paul's whine is piercing and reaches Schneider's ears beyond the loud water. She glances back to see him suddenly seated in the corner, his arms wrapped around his raised knees, a submissive, pleading look on his face.

Schneider turns back to the tub. Holding her hand under the pouring water, she waits for it to become hot before placing the plug in the drain. The water begins to steadily fill the tub. She turns and paces out towards the chair to grab it—she sets it in front of the tub. Then she faces Paul again. He's staring at his feet, hands curled into fists atop his knees. Schneider approaches him quietly, earning his gaze. She reaches out to pet his hair.

“Come, let's get this over with,” Schneider murmurs, “And then you can go play with the others.”

Pouting, Paul nods a little. Schneider waits for him to get up and crawl over to the tub. Paul climbs in and drops into the hot water with a splash. Schneider takes a seat on the chair and scoots in as close as possible. As she waits for the water to rise, Schneider reaches up to begin petting him again. Paul is distracted by holding his hand under the downpour of water from the faucet, his face unreadable save for the frown on his lips. Schneider then reaches out to turn off the water, now that it's high enough. Paul warily watches her.

“Lay back in the water for me?” she asks politely, patiently—she knows how much he hates having water poured on him. Paul sticks his bottom lip out and stares down at the water, contemplatively, before he silently turns himself, so he's facing the faucet. He begins to lean back. He clutches at both sides of the tub with whitened knuckles, as a desperate measure for preserving his survival. Schneider reaches out to cup one hand over the back of his neck as she lowers him down into the water, until it reaches his hairline. Then she brings her other hand up to run her fingers through his short locks, thoroughly wetting it in the water and dispersing the loose, cut hair. Paul looks at her, wide-eyed. Schneider tries to hide her amused smile with tightly pressed lips, though her dimples show through.

“Okay, sit up,” Schneider says gently, and Paul gladly does so. He sits up with a frown. Water rushes down his chest and arms, with some dripping noisily from his hair into the surface below. Already familiar with this routine, Paul turns so his back faces her—he rests against the side of the tub. Schneider grabs the bottle of shampoo and squeezes a dollop into her palm. After setting aside the bottle, she begins working the shampoo into his hair.

Past his shoulder, Schneider sees him grab the bar of soap from the lip of the tub. He begins playing with it by squeezing it in his wet hands, which ultimately rockets it from his slippery grip to fly into the water. He repeatedly does this while Schneider runs her fingers through his soapy hair. When she scratches her fingernails gently over his scalp in a raking motion, Paul lets out slight noises of enjoyment, momentarily distracted from his engagement in playing with the soap.

As she continues doing so, Schneider takes the cup waiting for its use from the side of the tub and then dips it into the water.

“Close your eyes,” Schneider says, which earns a huff from her puppy. She waits a moment longer before she begins gradually pouring the warm water over his head—he grunts with displeasure, though doesn't put up a fuss. Schneider rinses out the shampoo with two more pours of the cup and then reaches for the conditioner. Paul wipes vigorously at his face, irritated by the water in his eyes.

As Schneider begins running the conditioner through his hair with gentle fingers, Paul cups his hands underneath the shampoo foam that had gravitated in front of him. He carefully raises his cupped hands, watching the foam sway in the water. Schneider then grabs the cup again and refills it. Again, she warns Paul and then waits for him to close his eyes before she rinses out the conditioner as well, with careful pours of the hot water down over his dark hair.

By then, Paul is getting irritated. He keeps wiping at his face with aggravation. He then grumpily crosses his arms. Schneider notices, though she doesn't address it. Instead, she squeezes his shoulders and says, “Okay, get on your knees and turn to me.”

Obediently, Paul turns, eying her with an exaggerated frown. He places his hands on the rim of the tub before rising up onto his knees, so his lower half is above the water. Droplets fall from his hair and elbows to noisily meet the surface of the bathwater. Schneider grabs the soap that had been abused and left on the bottom of the tub, as well as Paul's bath sponge. She rubs the bar of soap against the sponge until it's bubbling excessively with soapsuds. When she squeezes it, the suds build on her fingers and drip into the water.

After placing the soap aside, Schneider glances up to meet his gaze. Paul is watching her with a more neutral expression, his gray eyes noticeably bashful. Schneider gives him a faint smile and reaches out to set her hand on his side. Raising the sponge, Schneider begins rubbing it over his belly, and then up over his chest, leaving behind thick streaks of soapsuds in the wake of the sponge. She runs it down over his sides, her hand descending to rest on his thigh. Paul is silent and still, watching as she scrubs at his hips, his thighs, and over his arms that he helpfully holds out for her.

“You're being so good for me, sweetheart,” Schneider praises with a gentle voice, earning a bashful glance from her puppy, “Thank you for being patient for mommy. I'll finish up soon.”

Paul beams at her and nods a little. Schneider smiles and reaches up to teasingly pinch his cheek—Paul squeezes his eyes shut. She chuckles and says softly, “You're such a good boy.”

Paul watches her with warmth in his eyes, his lips remaining in a happy smile. Schneider refocuses on the task of cleaning her pup.

After a quick scrub over his shoulders and around his neck and jaw—which has him making a puckered expression—Schneider sets down the sponge and grabs the soap. She rubs it between her hands until her hands are sufficiently soapy. With a slight smile on her slender face, Schneider meets Paul's wide-eyed gaze as she reaches up to gently cup his balls and shaft. She can't do this with a sponge considering how delicate he is here. She's quick to rub her soapy fingers over his sensitive parts, which has him shifting on his knees, a flustered expression replacing the smile on his face. With a gentle push of her wrist, she eases his thighs further apart so she has easier reach. Paul tenses up when her warm, soapy fingers slip underneath his balls and then further back.

His timid eyes are trained down on her, his cheeks flushed. She notices when he raises a hand to begin nibbling at his fingertips, as he tends to do when nervous. Schneider, also, notices he's becoming erect. It's an encouragement for her to remove her hand and say in a placating murmur, her blue eyes training up on his face, “I'm almost done, baby.”

Paul nods a little with a shyness in his eyes, still biting on his fingers. She grabs the cup and starts the faucet just to fill it with clean water, considering the bathwater is now tainted with the remains of shampoo and conditioner. Then she rinses the soap off of his body with the warm water, watching the suds rush down his pale skin to meet the water below. When she pours it over his groin to rinse it out of his pubic hair and off his shaft, Paul shifts on his knees again and lets out a slight whine. Apologetically, Schneider strokes her hand up and down over his thigh—she can tell he's getting impatient. She's quick to finish rinsing the soap off his chest and belly, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, before she sets down the cup and unplugs the bathtub. The water begins to drain.

Rising, Schneider pulls aside the chair and grabs a big, fluffy towel from the shelf by the tub. Paul watches her with his fingers between his teeth, his eyes subdued and brow knit. Schneider looks at him and then smiles faintly.

“Come on out,” she coaxes, unfolding the towel. Paul immediately climbs out of the tub with enthusiasm, splashing water everywhere. The bathtub mat manages to catch most of it. Schneider kneels beside him and wraps the towel around him.

Unsurprisingly, Paul leans heavily into her, resting his cheek against her shoulder, his arms curled close to his chest. Schneider ruffles the towel over his back and biceps, and then drapes it around him before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Paul shifts closer with a whimper and nuzzles into her—his developing facial hair is rough against her neck. The hug lasts a moment, before he begins nipping gently at her shoulder and neck with an eager huffing noise coming from him. Schneider gently grabs his shoulders and leans back. Without meeting his gaze, Schneider takes the towel and begins wiping down his chest and his arms.

Kneeling on the bathtub mat, Paul watches silently as she rubs the towel over his hips and thighs. After Schneider nudges his thighs apart, she carefully dries off his groin and his inner thighs, which earns a shudder from him. Then she brings it over his head and begins vigorously ruffling his wet hair. Paul laughs and reaches out blindly to squeeze her thighs in his hands. Schneider smiles and continues drying off his hair, until she deems it good enough.

“Dry off your face, baby,” Schneider says, passing him the towel that he obediently takes. As he rubs it over his face and ears, Schneider rises from the mat, grabs the used cup, and approaches the marble countertop on the other side of the bathroom. There, she opens up a drawer and digs out a razor and a tube of shave butter. She also fills the cup with water, for the sake of rinsing.

“On the chair,” Schneider orders, which Paul obeys and climbs on, the towel clutched in his arms. With his dark hair messy and yet to be brushed, he presses his face into the towel, until Schneider steps up to join him at the chair. Then he raises his head and looks up at her with warmth in his eyes. Schneider glances over his stubbly face as she squeezes some of the shave butter out into her palm. After placing the tube aside, she begins rubbing the shave butter over his cheeks and jaw. Paul closes his eyes and lets her.

Once his lower face is sufficiently covered, Schneider takes the razor and begins gingerly working it over his jaw.

 

Soon, his face is as smooth as the rest of him. Paul patiently waits for her to wipe off the remaining shave butter with the towel before he begins patting at his face with his hands, awed by the disappearance of his itchy facial hair. Schneider tosses the towel in the hamper. She grabs his collar and his brush from the counter. Rejoining him, Schneider brings the collar around his throat as he continues rubbing at his face, the name tag and o-ring noisily jingling as she does. She diligently fastens it and then runs her fingers up through his haphazard locks. Paul turns his head in towards her touch and looks up at her with big, loving eyes.

Smiling faintly, Schneider searches in his adoring gaze as she continuously strokes at his hair with rakes of her fingers. Then she begins brushing his hair with the brush, until it's neatly smoothed down again. Impatiently, Paul reaches out to curl his hands around her sides, silently encouraging her to come closer. Schneider relents and steps close enough for him to lean forward and press his face into her chest—Schneider nearly laughs. Paul nuzzles into her and winds his arms tightly around her back. He must find her sweater comfortable, considering he starts making this rumbling noise in lieu of purring. He begins sneaking his hands up under her sweater to stroke at her back, so Schneider gives a final pet to his hair and says, “Go out and play with the others, Paul. I have to bathe Richard now.”

He props his chin against her chest to look up at her with a pout and pleading eyes. Schneider smiles thinly. She knows he wants more, but she has work to do.

“Maybe later,” Schneider says softly, her other, empty hand reaching down to stroke her fingers down over his lower belly—he twitches and blinks. He ducks his head down to nuzzle into her chest again. Schneider doesn't want to tease him too much, otherwise it'll result in troublesome whining at the bathroom door while she's trying to bathe the others. So she retracts her touch and says, “Go play now, sweetheart.”

Paul whines and clings to her tighter, squeezing his arms around her. Schneider sighs and looks up at the ceiling in exasperation as he rubs his face against her chest. Stroking her slender hand over his bicep, Schneider lets him hug her for a moment longer before she murmurs with slightly more force, “Paul, _go_.”

Peeking up at her again, Paul juts out his bottom lip, begging, until she gives him a pointed look. He whines as he lets her go and climbs down from the chair. Schneider follows him to the door and then opens it up for him to rush out. He immediately jumps up onto the couch in the living room, circles once, and then flops down atop a mound of blankets. He hides his face in his arms.

“Richard,” Schneider calls with a snap of her fingers. She hears the thumping of hands and feet, as well as deep growling coming from Till. Glancing out from the doorway, she sees them rushing down the hallway towards the bathroom. Till shoves Richard _hard,_ which has Richard running into the opposite wall and collapsing atop the carpet. Till gets on top of him and pins him down with his bigger body, while Richard bucks helplessly, panting loudly into the carpet with a whine rising from his throat. He yanks an arm out from under Till to press his hand to his face. Till snarls and nearly bites down on his fingers, though Schneider approaching with a sharp clap of her hands earns alert glances from the two pups.

“Till, _down,”_ she scolds in a raised voice, a glare twisting her features. Till looks up at her with a submissiveness in his eyes, his own scowl weakening to something wary and reluctant. Richard wiggles underneath him until Till obeys and reluctantly climbs off of him. Richard gets up and darts over to Schneider to cling to her legs. He sticks his tongue out at Till. Till notices and bares his teeth with a growl, though Schneider snapping her fingers has him recoiling with his anger subsiding to obedience, his face becoming subdued again.

“You're next, Till, after Richard,” Schneider says with impatience, reaching down to pet at Richard's hair with her disapproving gaze trained on Till's, “You have to learn to wait like the others. You should already know this by now.”

Turning from him, Schneider begins towards the bathroom door with Richard happily hurrying after her.

 

After Schneider manages to give all five puppies haircuts, baths, and shaves—which took less time than it typically would, considering her diligence and practice—she encourages them all into her bedroom to get up on the bed. Knowing the grooming process isn't enjoyable for all of them, Schneider tries to make it up to them by letting them cuddle with her. And while some of her boys _enjoy_ being groomed (Richard, Till, and Flake), she doesn't want any of them to feel left out, either. Thus, every two days, she ends up in an overwhelming swarm of her pups on her bed that just barely manages to hold them all.

Considering Paul and Ollie both don't like being groomed, they get to have her sides. Paul clings to Schneider with one leg drawn over both of hers, while Ollie hugs one of her arms to his chest. Till is spooning up close to Paul, if only to reach across him and rest one of his broad hands on her belly, underneath her sweater to feel her skin. Richard is clinging to Oliver to do the same, his hand pressed to her bare side, though he had fallen asleep almost immediately—that is typical for him; grooming tires him out. Flake is clinging to Till's back, solely because he's bigger and warmer than Richard.

Schneider just stares up at the ceiling as she strokes at Paul's messy hair with one hand, while she rubs the back of her knuckles against Ollie's stomach, considering he is still clinging to her arm. Paul continues nuzzling his face into her chest. Oliver has his face tucked, hidden, under her shoulder, silent and motionless—Schneider isn't sure if he's asleep. The cuddling had managed to remain chaste and innocent for maybe ten minutes, until she feels Paul's erection against her hip. She presses her lips together and tucks her chin to look at his face. Paul eyes are downcast, his mouth slightly open and cheeks warm. She realizes what he's staring at when he begins quietly, shyly touching at her exposed belly with careful fingertips.

Till must have detected the scent of Paul's arousal—he begins growling lowly in his chest, possessively. Schneider sighs. Paul doesn't stop. He sneaks his hand under the sweater bunched up around her chest to grope at one of her breasts. Schneider stops stroking at his hair and debates what to do now. Scolding him will potentially ruin the cuddling session with the other pups, and if she _lets_ it continue, Paul will want more, and if she chooses to tend to him, then she'll have to please the others as well. That isn't happening. She's exhausted. When Paul begins nosing at her wavy hair and kissing at her neck with an angling of his head, Till snarls and sits up.

Before he could go _smacking_ anyone, Schneider points a finger at him and snaps, “Hey! None of that!”

The other pups jerk from surprise—Richard raises his head to look at Schneider with alarm, while Ollie rests his cheek on her shoulder and squeezes his arms gently around hers, his distrusting gaze fixing on Till. Flake just climbs down from the bed, deciding to avoid Till's temper tantrum entirely. Growling with a curled lip, Till clenches his hands into fists and then huffs impatiently. Paul looks back at him with a glare, while clinging to Schneider's side.

“Paul, we are not doing anything naughty like that right now,” Schneider begins softly, earning a betrayed look from him, “We are here to just lay down and relax. And Till, please just—don't make me have to get up. Be a good boy. Did you want to lay next to mommy?”

Till squares his jaw and stares at Paul coldly. Paul clutches at Schneider with a whine. She pets his hair apologetically, her blue eyes trained on Till. Till meets her gaze and then nods a little with a slight pout, his long, black bangs getting in his eyes.

Schneider kisses Paul on the forehead and whispers with a warm smile, “Alright, baby, you had time to cuddle with me. Let Till have a turn, okay? I'll give you a nice, big treat once we get up.”

Paul looks at her with a pout and pleading eyes. Schneider kisses him twice more on the forehead and then pats his back. Paul huffs and gets up onto his knees. He crawls away, for Till to grumpily take his place. Till flops down beside her, jostling the bed, and draws his arm tightly, possessively around her. She silently watches for any signs of him threatening Ollie—thankfully, he doesn't push it. Rather than cling to Till's back, Paul steps over the many pairs of legs to reach the other end of the bed. There, he flops down behind Richard and draws his legs and arms around him. Richard makes a pleased noise and turns to face Paul. Rather than spoon Ollie, Richard brings his arms around the smaller pup and nuzzles his face into his dark hair.

Pleased that Paul will be comforted by Richard, Schneider rests back into the pillows and closes her eyes with a sigh. Till rests his head on her chest suddenly, surprising her, though when she peeks down to see him pressing his ear to her heart, she smiles faintly and allows it.

 

* * *

 

Once the boys are sufficiently cuddled and Paul is given his treat (a cookie that he nearly chokes on from shoving it into his mouth excitedly), Schneider steps back into the bathroom to retrieve the camera and tripod. She takes it back to her bedroom to transfer the footage onto her laptop.

 

Following the hour it took for the footage to move onto her computer, Schneider sits atop her bed with her laptop resting over her folded legs. Currently, as the boys are busy playing in the living room, she is reopening her public blog dedicated to archiving her ownership of her five puppies. In a library of videos that consists of various topics (feeding them, taking them on walks, punishing them, sexually pleasing them), Schneider then uploads the edited tape of her bathing and grooming each one of her pups. She purposefully blurred out her face if it's caught on camera at any point, and muted the audio at certain points so her voice isn't captured, either.

After she responds to comments left by her intrigued fans, some asking for her advice for the care of their own puppies, Schneider gets up from her bed and sets her laptop on her desk, leaving it open for the video to finish uploading. With intention to start up dinner, she departs from her bedroom after turning off the light and shutting the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new pup always comes with problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence via corporal punishment.

The walk from her car to the front door is long. Paul repeatedly tugs at the leash to sniff feverishly at her flowers, to investigate the butterfly he finds perched on one, to curiously eat the leaf that had fallen from a nearby tree. Eventually, with some patient, gentle tugging, Schneider gets him inside the house.

Inside, Paul looks around with complete awe on his face. He stares at the painting on the wall by the door, he stares at the carpet, he stares at the neatly organized and spotless furniture decorating the living room, he stares at the elegant arrangement of the dining room on the other side of the house, visible from where he kneels. Schneider removes her heels silently. With his leash wound around her hand, she places them in the closet by the door—Paul pokes his head in-between her legs to see what she's doing. Schneider smiles when he looks up at her from between her knees, his eyes wide and hair messy.

“Come, let me introduce you to Till,” Schneider says fondly, reaching down to ruffle his hair. Paul smiles broadly. Schneider then begins leading him into the living room. Paul happily trots after her, panning his gaze across the interior of her home in a state of oblivious bliss, until she turns into the hallway. With his gaze trained elsewhere, he runs right into the wall. Schneider pauses in surprise and glances back to see Paul clutching at his head with both hands, a whine rising out of his throat.

Concern blooming on her face, Schneider kneels at his side and draws her arms around him, shushing him softly. She begins petting at his hair carefully while saying gently, “Oh, honey, you need to watch where you're going...”

Paul stops whining and immediately clutches at her. He nuzzles his face into her neck and begins sniffing at her happily. Realizing he is completely fine, Schneider smiles faintly. She pets his messy hair and then rises again. She unhooks his leash, deciding he'll be fine without it. Then she turns and begins towards her bedroom—predictably, Paul is on her heels.

Carefully, Schneider opens the door and looks inside. She sees Till curled up in his spacious dog bed, clutching one of her shirts close to his chest. He perks up at her arrival. Smiling broadly, he gets up on his hands and feet and rushes over to her with a noisy jingling of his collar—but then stops when he notices Paul peeking his head in to look around. His smile disappears, replaced by apprehension. Schneider opens up the door completely and quietly encourages Paul to enter. He paces in with a smile and then notices Till.

“This is Till,” Schneider says as introduction, watching Paul curiously approach the other pup. Till stares at him with distrust. Schneider gestures to the smaller of the two as she goes on, saying, “Till, this is Paul. He'll be staying with us from now on.”

As Paul steps around Till's seated form, sniffing his hair and shoulder, Till looks up at Schneider with a pleading expression. Schneider smiles faintly and steps up to her boys to pet Till on the head, running her fingers through his black locks.

“It's okay, Till. He's sweet. I think now you won't be so lonely or bored while I'm gone. You have someone to play with.”

Till continues looking up at her, a certain unhappiness in his eyes. Then he averts his gaze to stare at Paul instead. Paul is nuzzling at his bicep, a smile on his face. Schneider watches them with fondness. Till huffs and gets up onto his hands and feet to crawl towards his dog bed on the other side of the room. Paul frowns, forlorn, as Till flops down on it, back to the other two. He curls up underneath his blanket. Schneider presses her lips together and trains her gaze down on Paul, who had scooted closer and curled an arm around her legs. He has his fingers between his teeth, a concerned look on his face.

“It's alright. He'll eventually warm up to you,” Schneider murmurs, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Paul peeks up at her with worry and then nods a little. He removes his fingers from his mouth. Schneider watches Till for a moment longer, and then says towards Paul with a smile, “Let's go take your pictures then, Paul. We have a lot to do. After we finish, you'll get a yummy treat. Sound fun?”

Paul beams up at her and nods with enthusiasm.

 

* * *

 

Many hours later, following a day of examining her new puppy and keeping him occupied, Schneider sits on her bed with her legs crossed, laptop propped on her thighs. Paul is curled up beside her, his arm draped limply around her waist. He had fallen asleep a while ago now—the exciting day had exhausted him. Meanwhile, Till lays on his dog bed, watching her with unmoving eyes. Schneider isn't sure what to do about him. He's been cold and distant all day.

So for now, she busies herself with updating her website. Uploading a new album that consists of the pictures she took earlier today: of Paul's physique, his profile, his genitalia, the noticeable birthmarks decorating his pale skin, and his facial features. A documenting that she had also done with Till, when she first adopted him. So far, she's gathered Paul is _considerably_ less scathed as a result of careful keeping and training. He lacks any kind of scar. In comparison, Till has many, the most noticeable being the long, narrow scars going down his biceps.

Schneider had picked Till from a public kennel, which had been a naïve choice on her part—not that she regrets it, not at all. For Paul, she hired a practiced handler in the business to find her a purer pup that hadn't faced any of the hardships that Till did. Paul is completely untouched; physically, mentally, and in ownership. He had been brought up in safer, more comfortable pens. Till had been through multiple owners before her. Sexual abuse was something he faced many times, in the dirty, seedy pens he was kept in.

But, one thing they do have in common is that they are both trained. Schneider insisted on that.

As she muses about her two pups and their differences, Schneider watches Till silently. Till is staring right back at her, his face tucked into his elbow. She gives him a faint smile and says softly, just enough for him to hear, “Come here, baby. Don't you want to lay with mommy?”

Till perks up slightly, with a raise of his head. He looks at her with a furrowed brow and reluctance in his eyes, though he does slowly get up from the dog bed. He crawls over to the foot of her bed and climbs up on it. The jostling stirs Paul a little, though he doesn't wake up. Till eyes him distrustfully as he crawls over to Schneider's other side. He sits back on his haunches next to her and looks at her with need. Schneider lets out a sigh and reaches out to cup his cheek with a hand. Till closes his eyes and turns his face into her hand. He sniffs at her and kisses her palm gently.

When he fixes his gaze on her again, she's surprised to see a sadness in his green eyes.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Schneider murmurs, pushing aside her laptop. With a slight jostling of the bed, Till moves to lay beside her, his face hidden beneath his long bangs. He draws an arm around her, his hand lovingly stroking over her neck to cup her jaw. Schneider tries to avoid waking Paul as she pulls Till into an embrace. Till buries his face into her neck and shoulder, silent. He clings to her tightly. Schneider strokes at the back of his head with gentle fingers, her gaze downcast to his broad body, curled up close to her.

“I missed you,” Schneider whispers, angling her head to kiss him on the head. Till whines and shifts closer. She smiles and continues stroking at his hair as she goes on to say softly, “You were so distant today.”

Till is silent in her arms. He just nuzzles into her and lets out a quiet noise. Schneider says nothing more. She continues petting him, laying between both of her pups. Paul is breathing softly behind her, with his arm still draped around her waist. Till grows motionless and silent in her embrace, the only shifting of his body being the inflation and deflation of his ribcage with each slow breath.

For ten minutes they lay like this, until Schneider feels the tension in Till's body completely dissipate. He begins to breathe deeply, punctuated by quiet snores. He must have been exhausted, too.

 

* * *

 

Two months since Paul's adoption, Schneider holds the first Q&A on her blog since she welcomed Paul into their home—to satisfy the curiosity of her many followers, who have left prodding questions on her posts about him. She has the comments enabled on the post for the first two hours, and then she combs through the questions until she finds enough that intrigue her—all the comments threatening her and questioning her humanity are deleted. They've become fewer and fewer these days.

Now, she sits at her desk with Till and Paul momentarily locked out of her bedroom; she has to focus. In English, she types each question and answer up on her laptop in a word document, with intention to make it a blog post once she's done.

Once completed, she proofreads it carefully, and then uploads it.

It reads as follows:

 

“[Q&A #13 – 18/5/2002]

 

Q: [ **How are you doing today, Frau?** ]  
A: Just fine. Adjusting to accommodating the new pup.

Q: [ **After having Paul for a little while, what would you say is your favorite trait about him?** ]  
A: His undying obedience. While he does lack hesitance to express his displeasure with some things, he will ultimately obey, every time.

Q: [ **You mentioned in a post that you wanted to test adopting a privately raised, virgin pup, which is what Paul turned out to be. How costly was that, versus adopting Till?** ]  
A: Till was neither of those things when I adopted him, and he had a streak of misbehavior with his past owners. So he was considerably low-priced to begin with, when compared to the typical rates of public pen pups—the only expensive trait of Till's was that he is trained. To answer your question: Paul had been quintuple the price of Till.

Q: [ **How has Till responded to the new addition?** ]  
A: He's been possessive of me and extremely detached. I hope with time he'll warm up to Paul.

Q: [ **Have you had to punish Paul yet? If so, how?** ]  
A: Yes. Multiple times. The first occasion, he had made a mess in the bathroom; he peed everywhere but in the toilet. I spanked him. I had posted a recording of it, which you would've discovered if you bothered to look.

Q: [ **Is there anything about Paul that you don't like?** ]  
A: He has yet to learn that I can't cater to him every time he wants to cuddle. He whines incessantly until I have no choice but to punish him for it. This can be annoying when I'm busy with housework, or tending to Till. He's getting better about it.

Q: [ **Have you taken Paul's virginity yet, Frau?** ]  
A: No. I want there to be a stronger bond before I expend something so valuable. Like wine, the longer I wait, the richer it becomes.

Q: [ **Do they share the bed with you, or do they have their own beds?** ]  
A: As previously stated in posts of mine, they have their own dog beds. Sometimes I let them sleep with me, depending on circumstance.

Q: [ **Is pleasing Till sexually any different, now that there's another pup in the house?** ]  
A: Till is quieter, but he's also more passionate. He doesn't rush anymore; he tries to savor it for as long as he can manage. While it is enjoyable, it's mildly concerning. I don't want him to feel like our time will run out. It never will.

Q: [ **What is it like caring for two pups rather than just one?** ]  
A: Considering how much energy Paul has, it can be exhausting. But ultimately, it's fun.

Q: [ **Should we expect a video of you taking Paul's virginity?** ]  
A: Like I did with Till, I will always post a recording of the first time I have sex with my pups.

Q: [ **Paul is so cute! How old is he?** ]  
A: Yes, yes he is. He's in his thirties.

Q: [ **Do you ever dress them up?** ]  
A: Only when I take them on walks. Otherwise, there would be problems with public exposure.

Q: [ **Do you plan on adopting any more pups?** ]  
A: Not for a while. It might come into consideration later.

 

Thank you, everyone, for your questions. I will always appreciate your support, interest, and enthusiasm.

_-Frau_ ”

 

* * *

 

Three months since Paul's adoption, Schneider walks into the foyer of her home to find a lack of her two pups. Typically, they both crowd around the door upon hearing the jingling of her keys. She removes her shoes and peers towards the couch; there, she spots Till curled up in a blanket with his eyes closed. His body expands and deflates slowly—he must be napping. She quietly puts away her heels, hangs her coat, and shuts the door behind herself. As carefully as she can manage, she fastens the four locks and then enables the security system again.

Rather than waking Till, the noise of doing so has Paul emerging from the hallway. He rushes up to Schneider with a jingling of his collar and clings to her legs while whining softly. Schneider leans over to cup her hands around his cheeks, urging him to look up towards her. When he does, she gasps. His right eye is swollen slightly, and his cheek is flared with a redness. Paul is pouting, a wetness shimmering in his eyes. Schneider angles Paul's head and inspects it with confusion.

“What happened, baby? Did you run into the wall again?” Schneider asks softly, kneeling beside him. Tears swim in Paul's eyes, gazing at her with a sadness. Seeing him like this doesn't pain Schneider; she just wants to know what happened. Paul leaning forward to bury his face into her blouse doesn't surprise her. She draws his arms around him and begins petting his hair. She glances over towards Till to see him staring at them coldly.

Schneider frowns. She continues holding Paul, feeling him shudder in her embrace, until he slowly pulls back to look at her again. His face is flushed, now from crying. He wipes at his cheek and then timidly glances towards Till. Following his gaze, Schneider looks at Till again and sees the look of apprehension on his face.

“What—did Till do this?” Schneider asks in disbelief, reaching up to gently cup Paul's cheeks again as she searches in his eyes. Paul sniffles and nods. Schneider sighs heavily and then draws Paul into her arms again. Paul nuzzles into her and clutches at her tightly. While stroking at his hair, Schneider watches Till with a look of displeasure on her face.

“Okay, go lay down in my bed, sweetheart,” Schneider murmurs a moment later, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Paul looks up at her with a pout. She strokes at his ear gently with a thumb and says, “I'll come join you soon.”

Paul nods and then turns to sadly pace out into the hallway, nudging himself into her ajar bedroom door to jump up onto her bed. Schneider then rises up onto her feet and fixes her skirt. Ignoring Till for now, Schneider unbuttons her blazer as she begins towards her bedroom as well. Stepping inside, she approaches her closet while Paul bundles himself up under the plush covers of her bed, nuzzling into one of her pillows. She takes a minute to hang her blazer, remove her jewelry, as well as her stockings.

Now wearing only her skirt and a blouse, Schneider grabs the riding crop from her dresser and steps out of the bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

Reentering the living room, Schneider approaches the couch, where Till lays. He watches her silently, his eyes hard and jaw clenched. Reaching out, she curls two fingers into the o-ring of his collar and forcefully pulls him up into a seated position—Till grunts and shakily plants his hands atop the couch to balance himself. Schneider scowls down at him, searching his submissive expression as she growls lowly, “What makes you think violence is acceptable, Till? I don't care if Paul had been a nuisance, I don't care if he was doing something wrong—you do not hit him. I am the only one who delivers punishment. Understand?”

Till nods weakly, looking up at her with guilt in his eyes. Schneider then curls her fingers around the thick leather of his collar and roughly tugs him down and off the couch. Till stumbles off and collapses onto the carpet—Schneider doesn't release the hold around his collar and yanks him back up onto his knees with a strained snarl. Till whimpers and in return, it earns him a snap of fingers and a sharp, “Quiet! Now face the couch.”

Obediently, he turns and places his hands atop the couch cushion where he once laid. Schneider curls her hand around the back of his neck and forces him down until his forehead meets the couch, exposing the length of his back to her. Till shifts restlessly on his knees and clutches fistfuls of the couch cushion.

“I am disappointed you had to force my hand like this,” Schneider says, keeping her grip around his neck, “I'm going to give you a lashing, and then you can spend the rest of your day in the kennel. Be still.”

Till nods a little into the couch cushion, his body trembling involuntarily. Schneider removes her hand from the back of his neck as she adjusts herself into a suitable position: she hikes her skirt up enough to plant her knee on the cushion beside Till, for a sufficient angle. She brings her hand up to comb her fingers through his black locks, and then grasps a handful. With a raise of the riding crop, Schneider brings it down across his upper back with no hesitation—the cracking noise fills the living room. Till's entire body clenches up, though he makes no sound.

Again, Schneider repeatedly connects the riding crop across the length of his upper back, covering the entirety of his shoulder blades. Following each consecutive strike of the riding crop, Till's skin gradually becomes tinted a red. It darkens in shade the longer Schneider beats it across his back, until it becomes unbearable.

Only when he grunts in pain and twists his shoulders does she alternate to his thighs. She begins whipping it against the back of his thighs, covering every inch with cracks of the riding crop, again and again and _again._ The sharp sound of the crop meeting skin fills the living room, joined by Till's occasional pained grunt. She continues without reprieve, until they're sore, flushed a red, and Till is gritting his teeth. He clenches his toes and tries to repress his pained noises, his hands in fists and head lowered submissively.

Alternating from his shaking thighs, Schneider spanks him across the ass three times, with increased force in each sequential strike, until Till grunts and jerks a hand out to grab onto Schneider's thigh. Schneider gives one more hard strike to his ass with finality and then calmly takes a seat on the couch, tucking one leg under herself. She rests the crop on her lap and then cups a hand under his jaw to tilt his head back. He looks up at her past his disheveled bangs, his mouth fallen open and face flushed. He's panting heavily, and his body is shaking. Gazing at him silently, Schneider searches in his pained eyes.

There are tears clinging to his eyelashes, and only after he blinks heavily do they break free to traverse down his scarred cheeks. As he looks up at her beautiful, comforting face past his tears, his face twists into a pained grimace and then a sharp, broken inhale comes from him—sounding almost like a sob.

“Why are you crying?” Schneider asks in a murmur, bringing her thumb up to gently sweep away a descending tear. He shudders and lets out a shaky, ragged exhale. He slumps forward to rest his cheek against her thigh, curling his arms around her waist in a gesture of desperation and apology. Schneider allows it and rests her hand between his shoulder blades, where welts are beginning to develop. They remain seated in the silence of the living room, punctuated by Till's hiccuping breaths and quiet weeping.

Schneider knows he must feel devastated. He's never been beaten by her before, throughout the year and a half he's been with her. Until now, punishment had only been dealt with the kennel, or through abstinence with a chastity cage. Perhaps he was under the impression he wouldn't be faced with violent chastising in her home.

In the back of her thoughts, Schneider ponders if she should have recorded it, to mark the occasion. But she had been blinded by her own anger and disappointment—maybe even pain. Had she been pained by Till being a bad boy and striking Paul? Gazing down at his shaking back, Schneider isn't sure. All she knows is that he has to go in the kennel, and Paul needs to be comforted.

“Come on. You have to go in your kennel now,” Schneider says, and then removes her hand from his back to instead curl two fingers into the ring on his collar. Till clings to her tighter, though she just moves to stand forcefully, nudging him out of the way to do so. Till lets out a slight, needy noise and reaches for her, though Schneider ignores it and begins tugging him to the two kennels. Till stumbles after her on his hands and feet.

Getting the kennel door open, Schneider then roughly tugs him in with a strained pull, until he's obediently climbing into the dog bed, his head lowered. She shuts and locks the door behind him. Till sits back on his haunches and looks up at her past the bars of the kennel with a saddened expression, his eyes heavy and lips pressed together. His cheeks are wet and his face is reddened from crying.

Staring down into his eyes, Schneider contemplates what to say. What else can be said? He understands he did something bad, and now he's facing the punishment. Without another word to him, Schneider turns away and reenters the hallway and shortly thereafter her bedroom, leaving behind Till who watches her depart, crushed.

As she puts away the riding crop and begins removing bobby pins from her hair with a sigh, Schneider hears a desperate whining emerging from the living room. Frustrated, Schneider finishes removing the bobby pins and angrily tosses them onto her vanity mirror. After unzipping her skirt and draping it on the chair, Schneider turns to the bed and climbs on.

Sitting up with the blankets around his legs, Paul has his gaze fixed on the closed bedroom door, a concerned expression on his face as Till's low whining continues. Schneider gets under the covers with him, which earns his worried gaze. She urges him to lay down with her—Paul quietly shifts down until his head is against her chest. She draws her arms around him and lets out a deep breath.

“It's alright,” Schneider murmurs, exhausted. She cups her hand around the side of his head and begins running her fingers through his dark hair. Paul scoots closer and nuzzles up to her side comfortably. He continues watching the door, a deep frown on his face with his eyes sad. Schneider stares up at the ceiling and continues silently petting the younger puppy.

Eventually, after laying there for five minutes, Till's cries die off and then the household is silent once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider takes her boys out to enjoy the sunny day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on both this fic and Ich Will AU; I've been out of country and very distracted. Thank you for your patience!

The drive to the park is serene. The breeze is high today, rushing throughout the interior of the car considering every window but Schneider's is drawn down. It's ruining her hair, but she doesn't mind. The boys are far too happy for her to put an end to it; they're all sticking their heads out the windows, enjoying the beating of the wind against their faces and through their hair. Schneider imagines it's quite a sight to the neighboring drivers. Peering through the rearview mirror, shes sees Flake repeatedly sit back from the window to scrape his long locks out of his mouth with a grimace.

The dogs are whining and climbing over each other in the back, excited and anxious to get to the park already. To Schneider's side, Till is kneeling quietly in the passenger seat, considering it's his turn this time. He's sniffing at the air and closing his eyes under the breeze, his long black locks wildly beating around his face.

Eventually, once far from the bustling city with no other cars within eyesight, she pulls into the rocky parking lot of a secluded fenced area—a dog park not often occupied. Too far a drive from the city for most dog owners to bother taking advantage of. It's perfect for them, though. She parks the car and turns it off. It has her pups whining with more enthusiasm. She gets out of the car, and shuts the door behind herself. Wearing comfortable jeans and a light sweater, she's ready to handle any roughhousing the boys want to engage in. Meanwhile, the pups are all wearing clothing, clothing that sits comfortably and loosely on their bodies to prevent restriction or overheating. They've all been covered with protective sunscreen, as well.

First, she draws her wild blonde locks back into a low ponytail and ties it before unlocking and opening the backdoor. Paul immediately begins to climb over the others to get out first, but she holds up a hand and says sharply, “Hey, you know the procedure. Sit.”

Pouting, Paul retreats back behind Richard. Considering Flake is in front, he gets first admission. Schneider grabs one of five leashes from the floor of the car and hooks it into Flake's collar. She patiently leads him out of the car—he carefully drops down onto the gravel. Schneider shuts the door and locks it before turning and bringing Flake to the gate of the fence. Drawing it open with a clang, she holds it open and waits for Flake to pace in before unlatching his leash and shutting the door behind him.

She repeats this with the other four: Paul is next considering he climbed over Richard while she was busy with Flake. He tugs at the leash the entire way to the gate, nearly making her stumble, and immediately breaks into a run across the endless area of grass as soon as she unlatches the leash from his collar. Then comes Richard, who's eager but patient as Schneider leads him to the shut gate. Ollie is next, who she doesn't have to worry about. He respectfully follows her at her pace. He joins Flake on the grass as soon as he's inside and sprawls out next to him to lay in the sun.

Till is silent as he climbs down from the passenger seat, to join Schneider on the rocky ground. He's wearing a camouflage patterned tank top and knee-length shorts that make her smile faintly, in lieu of laughing. Seeing Till in clothing always amuses her. He simply follows her to the gate, respectfully. He waits for her at the fence after she closes it, his deep green eyes calm and trained on her retreating form. Once she retrieves the folded blanket, a pillow, her book, and a bag of treats from the trunk, she joins her boys in the grassy area, after shutting and locking the gate behind herself.

Unsurprising to her, Till stays close to her heels as she paces out across the grass. Squinting past the sun, she sees Paul running in circles around Richard, while Richard attempts to trip him up with sweeps of his arm. It has her laughing softly with a smile—they're adorable. Ollie and Flake are laying together, staring up at the clouds; Ollie has his arms folded under his head, and Flake has his hands clasped together on his stomach. They look comfortable, bathing in the sun. It's not often they get to lay under it like this.

As soon as she comes to a stop near the center of the field, Schneider turns to Till to see him holding out his hands with a submissive look on his rugged face. Schneider smiles thinly, eyes becoming lidded with amusement, and then passes him her book and the bag of treats, saying teasingly, “How sweet of you, Till.”

He perks up at that and smiles faintly, his green eyes lightening. He clutches both things to his chest, like they were precious, as Schneider turns back to the blanket and pillow resting at her feet. Taking the blanket in hand, Schneider shakes it out and then drapes it across the grass.

She toes off her sneakers and then climbs on. Setting down the pillow, she takes a seat on it and then pats the space beside her, peering over her shoulder at Till with a slight smile on her slender face. Till quietly crawls on, struggling to clutch her things to his chest while doing so. He slowly lowers them to gingerly set them on the blanket beside her. Schneider smiles and takes the bag of treats and book in hand—she sets them aside and then pats the space again.

“I meant _you,_ sweetheart,” she says. Till peeks up at her past his messy bangs and then nods shyly. He shifts closer, to kneel beside her. He leans over to rest his cheek against her shoulder. Schneider hums and reaches up to rake her fingers through his long bangs, sweeping them back and out of his face. Till nuzzles into her and happily draws both arms around her. His hands end up on her stomach and side; he clutches handfuls of her sweater in his broad hands and grumbles quietly with pleasure, a vibration that runs through her shoulder. Schneider grins slightly. She curls her fingers under his jaw and silently urges him to raise his head. He looks up at her with big, loving eyes.

Angling her head and slowly leaning in, Schneider kisses him. Till shifts closer, enthusiastically, and happily kisses her with quick purses of his lips. Schneider smiles into the kiss and attempts to coax him into something deeper than just a few pecks; he deserves a reward for being so good. Calming down, Till begins returning it with more passion, with more patience. Schneider unfurls her fingers from under his chin to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over scarred skin. The sun washes over them, keeping them warm as they kiss quietly, broken only by the sounds of their moving lips, Paul's laughter and snarling, and the singing of nearby birds.

The sudden shifting of grass earns Schneider's attention. She draws back from Till to glance over and see Ollie and Flake approaching at a languid pace—Oliver is watching them, and Flake is staring at the grass, studying it as it shifts under his hands following each step.

“Come here, boys,” Schneider welcomes them, removing her loving hand from Till's cheek to pat the vacant space on the blanket—beside her, she hears the softest rumble of complaint come from Till, but she ignores it. Flake glances up at her past his long, dark locks and then obediently climbs on to lay down next to her. Schneider reaches out to begin stroking at his hair. He reaches out to shyly curl a hand around her thigh. Oliver just splays out and closes his eyes. Till moves to lay down next to her as well, though he rests his head on her thigh. He rubs his cheek against her, grumbling quietly, and then gets settled. Like with Flake, Schneider reaches down to begin petting his black locks.

“Lay with me for just a little while, and then go play with the others,” Schneider says, “I want you to have fun while we're here.”

Till nods against her thigh, Oliver opens his eyes and looks at her as a form of acknowledgment, while Flake remains motionless, his face hidden against the side of her pillow. Schneider continues petting them as she watches Paul and Richard wrestle at the other end of the fenced area; it looks like Richard is winning. Paul is on his belly, trying to crawl out from underneath him and failing to do so—he's just ripping up grass. Richard is laughing with triumph on top of him, until he relents and wraps his arms around Paul to roll them over. Paul bucks like an animal for a moment, and then goes limp on top of the other pup. They lay together motionlessly, panting. Even from where she sits, Schneider can see Richard begin to stroke at Paul's messy hair. Schneider smiles to herself.

For a few minutes more, Schneider continues stroking at Till's and Flake's hair until she becomes bored of it; she reaches to grab her book. Till lazily gets up. He languidly paces out onto the grass until he reaches Paul's and Richard's laying forms. There, he kneels with his hands planted upon the grass.

Wary of him starting trouble, Schneider watches for any sign of aggression. Paul gets up and crawls over to Till. Then he plants himself on Till's lap, bringing his legs and arms around him. Till tips back until they both meet the grass, with Paul on top of him. Broadly smiling, Paul begins to press quick pecks over Till's face. Reaching up, Till strokes at Paul's messy hair affectionately with both hands, accepting the kisses patiently and appreciatively. Richard sits up and watches, grinning. Smiling herself now, Schneider drops her gaze to her book. She opens it to find her place.

Twenty minutes of laughter, harmless growling, and the shifting of book pages pass, which consisted of Till and Richard chasing each other around among the grass and wild flowers—Paul is too slow to keep up, though he's laughing and having fun regardless. Occasionally, Schneider peeks up to see Till charging after Richard like a goddamn bull, until he catches up and knocks into him to send them both rolling into the grass. Then Till would pin him down and playfully bite at him, until Richard manages to wiggle out from underneath him and run away; the process repeats until Richard gets tired of being the prey, and then he's chasing after Till.

Eventually, they become bored of this, and drop down into the grass to regain their energy, panting breathlessly. Paul approaches to flop down between them. Schneider had barely managed to get any reading done—she had been so enthralled by their antics. She bookmarks her place and sets her book aside.

With a shrill whistle, she gains the startled gazes of all of her boys—the three of them pop up from the grass to look at her. She cups a hand around her mouth and calls, “Time for a break, boys! Come and get a treat!”

Flake and Ollie sit up from around her, woken from their dozing, and watch with anticipation as she grabs the bag of food; meanwhile, the other three are racing towards them. Considering Till and Richard are exhausted, Paul manages to beat them to the blanket. He sits _right_ next to Schneider, his knees pressed to her leg with a beaming smile on his face. Till and Richard join the other four, though they show more patience than Paul.

“The price for a treat,” Schneider begins, holding up a single cookie that earns the rapt attention of all of them, “Is a kiss on the cheek.”

She presses a fingertip to her own cheek and smiles. The pups all nod, Paul more enthusiastically than the others. Paul immediately leans in, reaching out to clutch a handful of Schneider's shirt, and presses five sweet kisses to her cheek. It has Schneider smiling warmly and holding the cookie out for him. Paul takes it gingerly in his hands and then shoves it whole into his mouth. Schneider ruffles his hair and pats him on the back so he scoots out of the way. In his place comes Flake, who looks at her past his long locks. Schneider retrieves three crackers for him, knowing he doesn't like sweets much. Schneider watches him expectantly.

He's smiling bashfully at her, which is cute. He leans in and gives her a brief smooch on the cheek before holding out a hand. She gives him the crackers with a smile and then Flake nods gratefully, before he moves aside to let Richard take his place. Richard grins at Schneider and raises a hand to cup her other cheek while leaning in to plant a firm kiss to the other—he presses two more against her cheekbone and temple, before drawing back to look at her with warmth in his green eyes. Schneider smiles and retrieves a cookie for him. Unlike Paul, Richard values savoring it; after moving aside for Till, he nibbles on it with pleasure.

With Till now kneeling beside her, Schneider watches him with a genuine, amused smile blooming on her face. Till is looking at her with a certain subtle bashfulness, his eyes placid. He places a broad hand on her thigh and then leans in to kiss her on the cheek, his eyes closing—his long bangs brush against her skin. Schneider chuckles and then passes him a cookie with a cracker hidden underneath it. He's a bigger boy with a bigger appetite, but she doesn't want the others gaining any expectations. Till smiles faintly at her, thankful, and then joins Richard and Paul on the other end of the blanket.

Then comes Ollie. Quietly, he shifts closer, his gaze respectfully lowered. Schneider reaches out to cup a hand under his strong jaw, earning a glance from caramel brown eyes. She gives him a smile and arches a brow. Ollie's stare drops to her cheek. He leans in, which has Schneider angling her face towards him. Ollie's lips are slow and careful when they press against her warm skin—a loving purse of his lips, and then he's leaning back again to meet her gaze. Schneider stokes a thumb over his cheek, a faint smile on her face. She passes him a cookie.

Now, she watches her pups happily enjoy their treat, save for Paul who had consumed his far too quickly. He watches with envy as Richard teases him by dramatically nibbling at his cookie with a waggling of his eyebrows.

Schneider grabs her pillow out from underneath herself to place it on the other end of the blanket. She moves to lay down, head on the pillow. She closes her eyes when settled and welcomes the warmth of the sun, her hands loosely linked together atop her stomach.

Like she predicted, she soon feels the shifting of the blanket and hears the approach of her pups. Then comes the weight of one cheek pressing to her shoulder, with an arm winding around her midsection. One pup curls up around her head, another claiming her other side. Soon both of her legs are being clung to. She smiles faintly to herself. She's become quite literally a body pillow.

She doesn't open her eyes, she just basks in the comfort of her boys and the sun.

She determines who is clinging to her left when he begins to whine softly. It's Richard. She blearily opens her eyes and peeks over to see him looking at her with a pouting face. A face that she recognizes, a face that says “Mommy, I need to pee”. Schneider lets out a long, slow breath.

“Alright, who here needs to go pee?” she says, breaking the silence. Richard whines with more volume, joined by a noise from Paul, who apparently had been the one curled around her head and the pillow. Schneider sighs and then moves to get up; the pups untangle themselves from around her. Till, Flake, and Ollie watch with tired gazes as the other three step off the blanket.

“Let's go,” she murmurs, grabbing two leashes from the pile on the grass nearby. Then she begins towards the closed gate. Paul and Richard trot after her, their collars jingling.

Once leashes are attached and they're led out of the enclosure, Schneider locks the gate behind them and peers towards the blanket and the three left behind—Till is nosing at the bag of treats, while the other two are pacing out across the grass to reach the area shaded by trees. She then begins towards the two portable toilets partially hidden by foliage, Paul and Richard excitedly following at her heels.

 

* * *

 

Following another hour spent at the park, Schneider brings her exhausted pups home. Once inside the house, after her shoes have been removed and the leashes are put away, she leads her five pups into their room. They're eager to get into bed and nap, she can tell. She briskly undresses them all down to nothing, some more patient and easier to deal with than others—Till is struggling to yank his clothing off himself despite Schneider's protests, and Paul keeps wiggling and attempting to crawl into bed. Soon enough, they're all undressed and nestled under the covers, tangled up and ready to nap. She turns off the light with a smile and shuts the door behind herself, cradling their clothing in an arm.

After starting a load of laundry, Schneider sits down at the dining table and makes up a list of things to do: brush the boys' teeth after they wake up, possibly bathe them considering they ran around outside, fix them lunch, clean, and then check her email.

She manages to get the first two tasks done—Ollie is the only one who doesn't express discomfort during the teeth brushing process, and for once, Paul enjoys the bathing considering he had been the dirtiest of them all. She had noticed, though, upon bathing them, they had all expressed an eagerness for sexual contact save for Flake (though that is typical for him; he doesn't have much of a libido, she's discovered).

That changes her plans a bit. She knows she has been neglecting their other needs for almost a week now.

Rather than fix up lunch to satisfy their appetite for food, she leads the four of them into her bedroom to satisfy their appetite for sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that sort of thing will be written and posted after I get all the fluff out of my system.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day is long when Mommy is gone.

Unease rises among the five of them as they watch Mommy get ready for work; dressed up in her typical orderly, sophisticated outfit with her hair curled, wearing one of her silk scarfs, her pearl earrings dangling from her earlobes. They watch, gathered on her bed, as she does her makeup. They follow her as she grabs her bag from the kitchen counter, her coat from the closet by the door. The five pups sit around her as she pulls on her heels. When her beautiful blue eyes flick up to gaze at them, brief excitement rises, but then she's saying she'll be back later, and for them to behave while she's away. Whines emerge from her boys, but Mommy only smiles, pets them all individually, and then she's gone, shutting the door behind her with a click. That odd beeping sound fills the foyer again, and then it's silent.

Ollie, Flake, and Till dejectedly wander off. Paul and Richard remain seated at the door, alert and patient. Sometimes Mommy comes back because she forgets something. Maybe it'll happen again today. After sitting there for another minute, Paul glances at Richard, and Richard glances at Paul. They come to an unspoken, disappointed agreement that she's not coming back. They both turn and begin sadly pacing out towards the couch, collars jingling.

Richard nudges open the door to the TV cabinet and peers at their selection of movies. Paul climbs up onto the couch and bundles himself up in the blankets laying strewn across the cushions. Like Mommy had taught him, Richard chooses a movie, removes the DVD from the case, and turns on the box TV to insert it into the built in player. He waits for the menu to appear before pressing play. Then he turns and hops up onto the sectional to join the other pup.

Paul watches him from under his mound of blankets as Richard flops down next to him, lazily. Paul rises, swarmed in blankets, and crawls over the other pup—Richard grunts in annoyance as he's stepped on, though he tolerates it. Paul turns around and then lays down behind Richard, pulling the blankets over him as well. He winds his arm around Richard's midsection and nuzzles into his back.

They lay like this, spooning with their eyes trained on the TV, for maybe half an hour before they hear the creak of the floorboards. Glancing over, they both see Till emerge from the hallway and pace towards the sectional. Richard tenses up in Paul's arms, which Paul feels—he begins rubbing at Richard's tummy to comfort him. Till eyes the pair as he climbs up onto the couch. He takes the other end of the L shaped sectional, curling up on top of a few pillows. He fixes his gaze on the TV without engaging the other two.

 

Considering how early in the morning Mommy leaves for work, the three of them all end up falling asleep on the couch from mutual exhaustion. Paul lays limply on top of Richard, cheek against his chest, arm hanging off the couch, with the many blankets swarming them. Till had clutched a pillow to his chest and fell asleep that way, and now he snores quietly with his face hidden under the pillow. Unbeknownst to them, Flake and Ollie are sleeping as well, but back in their bedroom—they enjoy taking advantage of the excess space of the vacant mattresses, when typically, it's crowded.

For three hours, the boys all nap in peaceful silence, punctuated by Richard's and Till's snores. The first to stir is Till, who had been suffering through a nightmare—he jerks to consciousness abruptly with a lift of his head, the pillow tumbling off the couch. He looks around blearily, and then fixes his tired gaze on the pair who are sleeping together on the other side of the sectional. He frowns and then sluggishly climbs down from the couch.

With a quiet creaking of the floorboards under his hands and knees, he makes his way to Mommy's bedroom. Sometimes she locks it, Till has noticed, and sometimes she doesn't. He's not sure why. Approaching her bedroom door, he rises up onto his knees and reaches out to try the doorknob with a twist—it unlatches and he can swing the door open. Mommy doesn't know that he can open doors, taught to him by watching her, and he doesn't intend to reveal that to her anytime soon.

Nudging open the door, Till paces in and then shuts it behind himself, quietly. Then, sitting back on his haunches, he pans his gaze across her room. The sunlight pours in through the lace drapes of her windows, which frame her bed. Her vanity mirror is tall and leering, bearing her jewelry box, her perfume, her makeup on its surface. Her dresser has a floral pattern painted onto the rich wood, and he admires it for a moment. Then Till notices there's one of those oddly shaped things perched atop it. She has those in every room. He's not sure what it does, but she often messes with it, he's noticed. Ever since he was adopted, Mommy has used that weird device. There's a small red light emitting from the front of it, it's circular shaped opening pointed at him.

He glances back towards her vanity mirror. Languidly pacing out to the chair sitting in front of it, he then climbs up onto it with slight struggle considering it has wheels. Once situated, he stares at his reflection. That's definitely him. He glances down to the items arranged neatly on the surface. Within his ribcage, his heart begins to flutter in excitement. He reaches out to delicately grab her perfume. It has a pink liquid inside the diamond-shaped container. Raising it to his face, he sniffs at it a few times.

It smells just like her. He sags back into the chair and cups both hands around the perfume. He presses it close to his face and breathes in her aroma, eyes closing. He can feel something light and warm build inside of him. Swirling up from the pit of his stomach, spreading through his chest. Like a song, a melody of happiness and contentment. He feels so joyful, just smelling her perfume. It's almost as if she was here with him.

And then it darkens to something longing and melancholic. He misses her so much.

Lowering the perfume from his face, he stares down at it with a weakened gaze. He strokes his thumb along the label. He can't read it, but he likes looking at it. Somehow, he feels, that if he comes to appreciate her belongings, if he familiarizes himself with her things, he'll be closer to her. Gently, he reaches out and sets the perfume back in its place. Then he pulls her jewelry box closer.

Carefully, he unlatches it and gingerly opens it.

Elegant, modest earrings and necklaces are exposed to his admiring gaze. He strokes a blunt fingertip gently, fondly across each pearl, each jewel. He pictures Mommy getting dressed in the morning—back when it was just the two of them. Turning to him and asking which pair of earrings looks best when compared to her outfit, which necklace _he_ thinks looks lovely on her. The way she would ask if she looks presentable, and he would nod so hard he would nearly fall over in his attempt to convey he thinks she's _beautiful,_ which made her smile.

Heart clenching, Till shuts the jewelry box and pushes it back into place. After making sure everything is identical to its original state, Till drops down from the chair and begins towards her laundry hamper, situated by her bathroom door. Kneeling at it, he grabs the rim and pulls it over so he can reach in. He digs out a towel, a sleeping gown, and a pair of panties.

He holds the silk sleeping gown in his broad hands. It runs through his fingers like water. He clutches it in his fingers tightly, gazing down at the rose colored fabric. Recollections of watching her sleep, wearing this article of clothing, come rushing through his mind. Memories of her pulling up this nightgown slowly, seductively to reveal her body to him, enticing him and encouraging him to join her. Only then, Mommy didn't have to worry about the other pups— _he_ was the only one she pleased, _he_ was the only one she wanted.

Till raises it to gingerly press it to his cheek. It's soft against his skin. It smells like the cocoa butter lotion she rubs onto her arms and legs every night. Comfort runs through him, upon pressing his face into it. He remains kneeling like that, until he lowers the nightgown and stares at the pair of Mommy's panties in his lap. He sets down the gown and picks them up instead. He knows he's not allowed to get into her dirty laundry, much less be inside her room without permission. But regardless, Mommy is not here to punish him.

He strokes his thumbs over the soft fabric of her panties and thinks back on the countless times he's watched her undress— _this_ being the final article of clothing she would remove before they made love. The times _he_ would rip them off of her, and she would scold him for being so impatient, but never with force.

Arousal curls in his belly, thinking about it. He shakes his head with a frown and then pushes the pieces of laundry back into the hamper before straightening it again.

He knows she would find out if he jumped up onto her bed and slept on her pillows, because she _always_ found out. Till was never able to fix her covers just perfectly, and she would notice and subsequently punish him. Instead, he languidly makes his way towards the door, deciding he'll probably go lay in the backyard to sunbathe for a bit.

 

Paul is jerked from his nap due to the noisy sound of Till twisting the lock on the backdoor, followed by a creak of the door swinging open. Sleepily, Paul raises his head from Richard's chest and glances around, blinking heavily. Then, planting his hands against Richard's tummy and the couch, he pushes himself up—Richard grunts and curls up with discomfort from the weight of Paul crushing him. Eyes weakly opening, he looks up at the smaller pup with vague agitation.

Peeking past the back of the sectional, his hair a wild mess, Paul sees Till closing the door, the door which leads out to the enclosed backyard. Excitement swells in Paul—he realizes _he_ could go outside too! But then he remembers he's tired, and Richard is comfy. That has him looking down at the other pup, who's staring up at him with a frown and a furrowed brow.

Grinning, Paul leans in to kiss him on the brow. Richard's hands raise to stroke up over his bare sides. Paul blinks, his grin softening to a smile. Richard watches him with gentler eyes as he brings his arms around him. Happily, Paul rests his body down atop Richard's—Richard turns them so they're resting on their sides. Paul huffs when the other pup begins kissing him over his boyish face, lovingly. Paul drapes his arm around Richard's side and lets him kiss at his cheeks and forehead. When he closes his eyes, Richard delicately kisses his eyelids, as well.

Then with an angling of his head, Richard presses their mouths together. Paul shifts against him and tightens his arm around his side. He begins kissing him back with eager, firm purses of his mouth. He opens his eyes to look at Richard's face as their lips touch—Richard's eyes are open, and staring at _him._ A smile is in his green irises. Paul gazes into his pretty eyes as they kiss. Their mouths move together chastely, in a child-like pursing of their lips that Richard breaks if only to wiggle closer and begin nipping at Paul's jaw and throat—his nose bumps against his collar occasionally, making the o-ring jingle noisily.

Uninterested in sex, Paul stares at the TV screen past Richard's shoulder. It's showing the title menu of the movie they put on hours ago. Richard descends by nipping down his chest, his lips wet and warm against his skin. But it's beginning to annoy Paul. So, Paul gets up and crawls over the other pup, who grunts with irritation, to hop off the sectional.

He trots across the hardwood floor of the dining room to reach the backdoor. There, he squints past the panes of glass to see Till seated on the dog bed outside, atop the back porch. Paul lifts a hand and raps his knuckles against the glass. Till glances over his shoulder, notices the younger pup who beams at him, and then grumpily gets up to approach the door. Richard watches from the couch, pouting. When Till reaches up to twist the handle and push the door open for Paul, Richard jumps down and hurries out to join them—he doesn't trust Till being alone with Paul.

Reluctantly, Till lets Richard step out onto the porch before shutting the door behind the pair. Paul climbs down the stairs and onto the grass. He begins towards Mommy's flowerbeds. He's careful as he noses at them, sniffling at each flower individually, while warily avoiding any bees. He knows Mommy doesn't like it when he tramples on her flowers, so he's cautious. He watches the bugs that are among the dirt and flowers. He sees a couple crawling in the center of some flowers. It amuses him and keeps him occupied, while Till curls up on the dog bed and Richard peers through the slats of the high wooden fence surrounding them.

Till is able to rest for ten minutes, curled up in the sun with his eyes closed, before there's another quiet knock on the door. Frowning, Till lifts his head and sees the other two kneeling at the door. They must have heard the door opening earlier. Grumbling, Till gets up and stomps his way to the door. Reaching up, he turns the handle and pulls it open for them—he's the only one who knows how, so he has to do it. And he's not going to _teach_ them, because he doesn't want them sneaking into Mommy's room like _he_ does.

Flake gives Till a thankful nod and paces past him, followed by Ollie. They join the other two on the grass; Flake sprawls out in the sun, while Ollie admires Mommy's flowers alongside Paul.

 

After spending an hour outside, they all filter back into the house. Till makes sure to lock the backdoor, as if nothing ever happened. Sleepy from the sun, the six pups meander into the living room. Flake climbs up onto the couch, while Ollie curls up on the carpeted floor, clutching Till's fallen pillow to his chest. Richard begins looking for another movie to watch. Meanwhile, Till begins towards the sectional with intent to jump up and get comfortable, but Paul suddenly grabbing onto him and crawling up onto his back has him pausing.

Glancing over his shoulder with a grimace, Till sees the smaller pup clinging to his back—he's hanging off of him, his arms wrapped around him. He has a mischievous grin on his face. He begins biting at Till's shoulder and bicep while snarling playfully. Till sighs and sits back on his haunches. Paul drapes himself around his shoulders and clings to him while biting at his ear and neck. Till begins to lean back—Paul lets out a panicked noise, and then laughs as Till falls back on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

Paul wiggles a bit, pushing at Till, until he manages to work himself out from underneath his weight. Till just lays there, strewn out, with his eyes closed. Meanwhile, Richard is jumping up onto the sectional, warily watching the pair play around as he gets comfortable. Paul climbs onto Till and begins laying multiple kisses across his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips, all in rapid succession, while giggling. Till lazily brings his arm and leg up around the other pup to turn them over, with Paul pinned under them both. Paul fidgets and laughs, though ultimately quiets down and lays there limply underneath Till.

He watches Till's face with a bright smile, until Till opens his eyes and looks at him tiredly. Then Paul turns to face him and scoots closer, if only to nuzzle into him. Till silently tightens his arm around him and holds him against his chest. Richard watches grumpily from the couch, jealous.

Eventually, Paul gets bored of that and escapes Till's hold to retrieve his ball from his kennel. With it in his mouth, he drops it onto the carpet, aims it, and swats it square into Till's chest. Slightly annoyed, Till slaps it away. It goes racing down the hardwood floor—Paul runs after it with his hands and feet making a great big deal of noise against the hard surface, collar jingling wildly. Flake growls with annoyance from the couch.

When he reaches the ball, pinned between the legs of the dining room table and a chair, Paul delicately takes it in his mouth and trots back over to the living room. There, he sets it back down a distance away from the bigger pup, peers over at Till, and then swats it again—it knocks into Till's stomach. Till growls and bats it away violently. It goes flying out across the living room to land on the opposite side, beyond the sectional. Again, Paul goes chasing after it.

This repeats ten more times, until Paul is exhausted and bored of it, and the others get fed up of his noisy running. Paul tiredly joins Richard and Flake on the sectional; he flops down in Richard's lap. Richard beams and begins petting his haphazard hair. Eventually, Till gets up from the carpet and lazily meanders over to the sectional. Like earlier that day, he claims the other side of the sectional, where Flake lays. He nudges up close to him and curls up, back to back. Flake shifts a little closer.

 

* * *

 

A painful amount of time passes—a time full of agonizing boredom and longing for Mommy. They occupy themselves with napping, playing, and watching the movie Richard put on. At one point, Ollie gets up from the carpeted living room floor to sit at the wide window by the kitchen, perched on his usual pillow there to admire the nature beyond.

When suddenly they hear the crunch of gravel under tires and the humming of an engine, all five of them perk up. Paul immediately rockets off the sectional, jostling Richard, and runs up to the front door—Richard excitedly follows, and Till is right at his heels. Ollie and Flake, as per usual, don't rush. They depart from their respective places at the window and on the couch to pace up to the front door currently swarmed by the others, but with a more subdued excitement. Paul whines loudly at the front door as he paces back and forth, occasionally nudging his shoulder into the wood panels of it. Richard whines softly beside him, anxious.

As they hear the opening of the car door followed by the audible click of Mommy's heel against the driveway, Paul begins yipping and reaching up to paw at the doorknob. Till, irritated by his behavior, reaches out to grab him by the scruff and pull him back. Whipping his head around to look at Till with angered eyes, Paul snarls, baring his teeth. He jerks out of his hold and resumes his whining. Till huffs from behind him.

Soon after comes the jingling of her keys. Paul is nearly vibrating with excitement, his whining persistent and piercing. Richard tries peeking through the crack in the door to see her. Then the door is unlocked and slowly, carefully pushed open. Paul and Richard scoot back, bumping into Till, to avoid being struck. Then the door swings open to reveal the angelic image of their Mommy. Before they can even think of crowding around her _outside,_ Mommy shoves her way in and firmly shuts the door behind herself.

“Hi, boys,” she says with a smile. Paul and Richard beam up at her, their faces displaying such pure joy. Till softens from the mere sight of her and manages a loving smile himself, which spreads across his full lips and accentuates his crow's feet. Flake and Ollie nudge themselves closer between the other three to look up at her with love. Paul is still whining and Richard is making a desperate noise in his throat.

Rather than tending to their neediness, Mommy steps over Paul's folded legs to reach the closet by the door. She takes a moment to remove her heels and set them inside, while slipping her purse off her shoulder. The dogs are close at her heels as she navigates around them to enter the kitchen.

Mommy sets her purse on the counter and then removes her silk scarf. After unbuttoning her blazer and stripping it off, she folds it and set it beside her purse, revealing her sheer, cream colored blouse. Then she turns to the dining table and draws out a chair with a scrape. The pups crowd around her slender legs as she takes a seat.

Paul immediately shoves himself between her knees and nuzzles his face into her thighs, against the nylon of her pantyhose. He looks up at her with big, loving eyes. Smiling, Mommy brings both hands down to begin petting his hair, ruffling it and running her fingers through it. Paul whimpers and curls his hands around her legs, eyes closing. Richard then nudges himself in, shoulder to shoulder with Paul, and sets his chin on her thigh, his eyes trained up on her. Till does the same on Paul's other side, though instead of placing his chin upon her, he rests his cheek against her warm thigh.

“I missed you all so much,” Mommy says, “Did you miss mommy?”

All of them whine in affirmation, even Flake and Ollie, who are trying to squeeze in among the other three.

“Would you boys like to go cuddle with me in my big bed?” Mommy asks softly, while stroking at Till's and Richard's cheeks with loving, slender fingers—Paul continues nuzzling his face between her thighs, his needy eyes peering up at her beautiful face.

They all whine with more volume and shift ever closer to her seated body. She chuckles and nods, before giving final strokes to Till's and Richard's cheeks before she moves to stand. Leaving her things behind on the kitchen counter, Mommy turns into the living room and begins towards the hallway, her curls bouncing with every step. The five pups happily follow her down the hallway, nearly tripping over themselves with excitement.

 

* * *

 

Many hours later, when the pups are cuddled to satisfaction, dinner has been made and consumed, and the pups are put to sleep after spending a couple hours with Mommy, Till silently slips out of their bedroom with a quiet opening of the bedroom door. It's late at night, and he should be in bed, with the others.

Peeking into the hallway, he sees only the soft light emitting from Mommy's slightly ajar door. He furrows his brow. Whenever it's bedtime, Mommy always shuts her door; Till only knows this because he often checks to see if it's open. Curious, Till cautiously approaches.

It's ajar just enough for him to peek inside.

First he sees her laptop, open on her desk. That strange device from earlier, with the glowing red light, is sitting beside it. Till doesn't see Mommy. He quietly pushes the door open with his forehead and then sticks his head in to look around. He retreats back into the darkness of the hallway when Mommy suddenly paces out of her adjoined bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. Her skin is flushed in places. Her hair is dry—she must have bathed?

Silently, Till watches from the hallway as Mommy paces further into her bedroom. She removes her towel, wipes down her legs, arms, and neck before tossing it into the laundry hamper. Till eats up the sight of her nude body with his heart beginning to race, face warming.

She's so breath-taking and angelic, when it's her _just_ like this. No mask that she puts on for the other dogs. No demeanor she has to maintain. Her face is stony and lacking any emotion as she redresses into one of her nightgowns. This one cascades down her body, to reach her knees. It's slightly sheer. Till can just barely see her breasts and belly through the violet colored fabric. Mommy runs her fingers through her blonde locks and then adjusts the straps of her nightgown before taking a slow seat on the edge of her bed. Then, she pauses.

Till freezes when her chilling blue eyes pan up to look straight into his, across the length of the room, from her bed to the door.

“Come in, baby,” Mommy invites with a slight smirk toying at the corner of her lips—like she was expecting him. Till lowers his head respectfully as he quietly nudges himself through her bedroom door.

“Shut the door,” Mommy murmurs—Till obeys. Once the door is shut, he begins pacing up to the bed, his guilty eyes trained up on her amused face, past his long bangs. Mommy snaps her fingers and points down at the floor between her knees. Till silently, obediently approaches her to kneel at her feet. He keeps his gaze lowered. When gentle fingers curl under his strong jaw and gingerly tilt his head back, Till looks up at her. Her eyes are lidded, pleased.

“I saw you let yourself into my bedroom when I was at work, Till,” she murmurs, her voice smooth like honey. It has a shiver running down his back with apprehension. Shying away, Till looks down with a slight turn of his head, but Mommy is firm. She tightens her grasp around his jaw and forces him to look up at her. Mommy searches in his eyes and smiles, faintly.

“You played with my things. You got into my dirty laundry, despite me repeatedly telling you you're not allowed to. Why?”

Till knows _she_ knows why. When he pans his gaze down along her body, seen through her gown and as beautiful as ever, Mommy lets his jaw go for him to lower his head. He shifts closer and watches himself raise his hands to slowly, lovingly curl them around the back of her ankles. Eyes downcast, Till strokes them up along her calves in a gradual, adoring caress. His broad fingers are gentle as they glide across her skin.

He leans in to rest his forehead against her thigh.

“Did you miss me?” Mommy asks.

Till nods.

 _“Do_ you miss me?”

Till nods.

“Do you want me, baby, right now?”

Till peeks up at her past his bangs, his eyes tender. He nods again.

Mommy's slight smile becomes a smirk. She nods, in return. Reaching one hand down, her fingers long and elegant, Mommy slowly curls them into the bottom of her sheer nightgown and begins drawing it up over her thighs, exposing pale skin to him, skin decorated with birthmarks. Till stares, watching, his heart pounding and stomach flipping. Meekly glancing up to meet her gaze, Till sees lust and amusement in her striking blue eyes.

“Tonight, I can be yours, and only yours,” Mommy whispers, her slender face seraphic and beckoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my fill of the fluff; smut will come next.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of recording a video for her blog, Schneider lets Till mount her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins the reign of depraved, indulgent smut.

“Be nice for the camera, Till. Show me how good you can be, sweetheart,” Schneider says in a murmur, a smile curling at her thin lips.

Once given a slight nod from Till, Schneider raises her slender hands to cup his cheeks, feeling the scratch of his developing facial hair and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He looks at her with lidded eyes, heavy with lust and adoration. She can read it so easily in his gaze. Kneeling on her bed with Till, Schneider shifts closer, until their bodies press together. Till raises his hands and shyly rests them around the small of her back. His fingers curl into the silky fabric of the short, lacy nightgown she's wearing. Meanwhile, like usual, he's wearing only his collar.

For now, the camera set up on the tripod is not recording. Schneider likes to keep the foreplay between only them, an intimate moment that she likes to fully enjoy, without the worry of filming. And now, feeling Till's hot erection against her belly through the nightgown is only exciting her, knowing he is already so turned on. Though it doesn't surprise her.

With her slender hands holding Till's face, Schneider leans in and angles her head to gently press their lips together. Till lets out the softest grunt and kisses her back with a loving purse of his mouth. Schneider brings one hand from his cheek to curl her fingers into his short black hair on the back of his head. Till's hands are shy and motionless on the small of her back while their lips move together in a gentle, slow back and forth. Schneider kisses him lovingly and tenderly, until her desire to progress has her drawing away. She looks up into Till's eyes, noticing just how deep the hunger runs inside of them.

“Do you want to touch me now?” Schneider asks quietly with a tilt of her head, as she curls her fingers into the straps of her nightgown. Till drops his gaze to stare at her body. He nods. Schneider then draws down the straps, followed by the nightgown itself, to reveal her breasts and soft stomach. Her nipples are yet to become erect—they're warm and supple, asking for Till's touch. Till lets out a shuddering breath, seeing her nude again. Schneider reaches out to take him by the wrist. Silently, she raises his hand and presses it gently to one of her breasts, flattening her hand across his. She watches him with intensity in her blue eyes.

Jaw clenching, Till stares as he squeezes it in his hand. She's so soft. He thumbs at her warm nipple, watching the pink skin wrinkle under his touch. Raising his other hand, he strokes it up over her side, across pale skin and birthmarks, to cup her other breast. Schneider, meanwhile, slyly reaches over to close her hand around the base of his shaft. Till lets out a slight noise and looks down to see her touching him. She laughs quietly and murmurs with amusement, “Do you want me to lay down, baby? You can do whatever you want to me.”

Shakily, Till looks up to meet her gaze and nods. Schneider takes her hand away from him and moves to lay back against the pillows. Till follows almost timidly—he gets between her legs with silent permission. He's so big, he can barely fit between them. He's careful to bear his weight on his knees and elbows, rather than on her. Schneider isn't surprised when he aligns their lower halves and begins to rub against her with shaky rocks of his hips, his hands in fists on both sides of her, his head lowered and bottom lip between his teeth. Resting her hands over his forearms, she glances down to watch him rub the length of his flushed cock against her inner thigh and pussy.

He knows he's not supposed to put it in yet. So for now, Schneider only watches and enjoys the visual of his thick shaft rubbing up against her flushed cunt, the pink head of his cock wet with both her arousal and his pre-cum. As Till begins to huff and grunt, Schneider contemplates suggesting he stop if only to save his orgasm for the actual sex. But he seems to think the same—he ceases his humping and instead cups a hand around one of her breasts again.

Schneider watches with a faint smile as he leans in to suck one of her soft nipples into his hot mouth. His full lips secured around her breast is a nice image, accompanied by his closed eyes and flushed cheeks. He's so cute. Till bites gently a few times and then alternates to her other breast, leaving the first glistening with his saliva. Schneider can feel his erection against her thigh, hot and pulsating with his arousal. She almost wants to let him fuck her now, with no limitations, just to see his face as he comes—but she has plans.

Till takes his time kissing over her breasts and belly, his hands cupped around her sides. Kissing further and further down across pale skin and her soft stomach, until he ends up between her thighs. He sticks his nose against her soft curls of pubic hair and sniffs at her a bit there, before drawing back further, to smell her at her most intimate place—her deepest musk, a scent he unashamedly enjoys. He indulges himself and sniffs at her, his hard cock pressed against the covers and aching from this additional form of teasing. Resting back on the pillows with her blonde curls strewn about her face like a halo, Schneider only watches him with a faint smile, pleased with his satisfaction in smelling her. She strokes at his long black bangs, brushing them back to keep his flushed face entirely exposed to her.

Lustful green eyes flick up to meet hers when Till sticks out his tongue to lick at her bashfully, experimentally. Schneider hums with approval and sinks back into the pillows, expressing her aroused enthusiasm. Till notices and does it again, with more force this time. He runs his hot tongue up across her pink folds, tasting her and the wetness seeping out of her. With his broad hands remaining cupped around her sides, he begins lapping at her in earnest, his dilated eyes trained on her face and eagerly searching for signs of pleasure. Schneider bites her lip and runs her slender fingers through his black hair, watching his handsome face as his big tongue licks over her clit and between her flushed folds in a repetitive stroking motion.

Considering he insists on eating her out often, Till is familiar with the technique she has taught him in the past. After teasing her with long licks, he shifts closer and closes his mouth around the entirety of her to suck firmly, his cheeks hollowing and eyes trained on her face. Schneider's mouth opens slightly, her cheeks warming. She watches through lidded eyes as Till sucks tightly at her clit, his brow furrowing with focus. She smiles faintly, amused by the effort he puts into pleasing her.

He alternates between lapping at her swollen clit, sucking at her pussy, and pushing his tongue _into_ her—which has her reacting with a clenching of her stomach and a rushed exhale from her open mouth. His tongue is broad and hot; it certainly feels good pushing into her. He notices, as observant as he is, and repeatedly slides his tongue into her slick hole, stopping momentarily if only to lick at her clit some more.

Soon enough, Schneider is flushed and panting. It encourages Till to bring one of his hands down from her side to tease at her wet hole with a fingertip. Schneider tenses up and then lets out a breathless laugh, a sly smile growing on her slender face.

“Do it gently, Till,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers through his haphazard black locks. Looking up at her with warm eyes, Till nods a little. He then draws back slightly to watch as he slowly, carefully pushes his index finger inside her. Considering how wide his fingers are, Schneider previously taught him to be gentle and only add another by her instruction. And now, Till is careful to watch her face for discomfort as he moves his finger—she just watches him with a faint smile, while raking her fingers through his hair.

Eager to please, Till leans in again to shyly lick at her clit while fingering her. That has Schneider tensing up—he feels her clench around his finger. It has him whining with need. He looks at her with pleading eyes as he rocks his hips against the bed. Schneider notices, an understanding, sympathetic expression blooming on her face.

“Soon, sweetheart,” she whispers, giving him a soft smile. She strokes at his cheek with her knuckles and then says, “You can add another finger. We need to get me ready for you.”

Till nods and lowers his head to begin eagerly lapping at her again, while teasing her vagina with his middle finger. Considering how slick she is with the combination of his saliva and her natural lubrication, Till is able to easily slide it in alongside the first. The image of his two fingers inside of her, moving back and forth and glistening with her arousal, has him releasing a low, needy rumble in his throat, his jaw clenched and eyes lustful. Schneider draws her hand back from his hair and props back on her elbows to relax with a deep exhale.

She watches Till's face as he carefully fingers her. He's so gentle and considerate, it almost bores Schneider. But he's her puppy, and he would do anything for her. That alone pleases her greatly.

His beautiful green eyes flicking up to meet hers has her smiling faintly. He's so flushed and his hair is messy, his full lips wet and red from all the sucking he's done. His handsome face is striking in the dim light of the lamp. She wants to kiss him again, to taste her pussy in his mouth.

Till beginning to curl his fingers up into her g-spot distracts her from the thought. She hadn't anticipated it. She clenches up and gasps, her eyelids briefly fluttering before she trains her alert gaze on Till's again. Mouth fallen open, she closes it again to regain her composed demeanor. Till smiles a little, watching her face as he continues pumping his fingers up against the spot inside her that has her shaking with pleasure. She clutches handfuls of the covers to control herself. But Till's fingers are large and firm—they feel so perfect, pushing up against her g-spot almost clumsily; she tips her head back and moans.

Till whines with approval and leans back in to begin licking energetically at her clit, while putting more force into his fingering; his entire arm moves with the motion of his fingers and wrist. A choked noise escapes from within Schneider. Her legs lock up and her feet jerk, to knock against Till's sides. He whimpers again and closes his mouth around her clit to suck tightly—it has her crying out and bringing a hand down to grab at his hair. Till continues roughly fingering her g-spot while nursing at her clit, his eyes trained up on her face despite the visual obstruction of her hand and his wild hair.

“Till!” Schneider gasps, back arching and face twisting. She feels the winding, intensifying heat of an orgasm rearing up fast. Till knows how to make her come, simply because she's _taught_ him how. And he loves making her feel good, so he has no hesitance to continue licking and sucking and firmly fingering her, until her entire body locks up and she's rendered completely silent. Her lower half convulses and involuntarily shakes as he continues roughly curling his fingers inside her flushed pussy. Till flinches back when something wet hits his face.

Awed, he watches weak spurts of ejaculate shoot out from her to land on his wrist and the sheets. She's gasping now, her body trembling and legs curling in. Till continues gently fingering her—her wet ejaculate and slick arousal make for vulgar sounds, joined by Schneider's panting. Biting his lip, Till admires her flushed pussy and the sight of his fingers inside her, until he glances up at her face to see her watching with an agape mouth and red cheeks. Schneider then clears her throat and says roughly, “Till, enough.”

He nods and removes his fingers. Schneider sits up weakly and stares at the wet mess of Till's face and the sheets.

“Good boy,” she says with a slight laugh and reaches out to cup his cheek. Till turns his head to kiss her palm and fingers happily.

“Come here,” Schneider murmurs. Till enthusiastically gets up and crawls over her again. Schneider chuckles as he collapses on top of her. Till strokes at her skin with a broad hand and presses quick, loving kisses to her jaw and neck. Schneider angles herself to meet his lips with her own. Till makes a low, pleased noise against her mouth and kisses her contentedly. Schneider cups his jaw with a slender hand and lets him mindlessly mash his mouth against hers.

Schneider dips her tongue into his mouth and tastes herself on him. Till grunts and sucks greedily at her tongue. She laughs into the kiss and pulls back, breaking it and earning a needy look from dilated green eyes. She kisses his lips in a quick peck and then says quietly, searching in his eyes, “Let me turn on the camera and then you can mount me, baby.”

Till nods with enthusiasm. Getting up from the bed, Schneider steps up to the camera, while Till watches. She starts the recording and then climbs back on. Till sits up on his knees and watches with alertness, his hard cock erect and eager between his thighs. Schneider gathers two pillows in her hands and stacks them. She lowers herself so she's clutching them to her chest and keeping her comfortably elevated, while her lower half is raised high for him, her knees placed far apart.

“Come,” she orders.

Trying to restrain his eagerness, Till moves closer, unintentionally jostling the bed with his impatient enthusiasm, his collar jingling. Getting up, he crouches low behind her and plants his hands against the bed on both sides of her for stability. Schneider had purposefully taught him he is _not_ allowed to guide himself in with his hands—she lets him hopelessly rut against her, his hot shaft rubbing up against her with desperation to be inside her. Schneider finally relents and reaches back to grip his cock. He grunts impatiently, a deep, rumbling sound in his throat.

Rubbing the dripping head against her cunt, Schneider has yet to align it and yet Till begins to thrust against her, trying to get it in regardless. She attempts repeatedly to guide him in, and eventually, the head catches and he's thrusting into her, deeply. Till grunts and Schneider manages a quiet, repressed noise.

Without restraint, Till cannot control himself and begins to fuck her with rapid, short pumps of his hips, his thighs straining and flexing. Schneider bites her bottom lip between her teeth to repress her noises. She's still sensitive from earlier and he's certainly not small. Till is moaning and grunting on top of her, his chest heaving against her back. His cock is thick and burning inside of her; he's just big enough to border on painful despite the previous thorough fingering that had occurred. And he isn't slowing. He continues greedily, mindlessly thrusting, which does nothing for her and if anything, it'll speed up the process of his orgasm, and in result, end this sooner.

“Slower, baby,” Schneider breathes, reaching back to stroke a hand over his clenched thigh, “Slower.”

Till huffs noisily behind her. He obeys and stops thrusting like an animal. He readjusts himself on top of her with a creaking of the bed and then begins to rock his hips again, his pelvis firmly meeting her ass every time—this has each thrust becoming deeper and harder. His cock strikes against her cervix following each thrust, which has her gasping, her toes curling and hands clenching around the pillows in her arms. It doesn't hurt; it feels good. Till takes notice of her noises and it encourages him. He brings one hand up from the bed to squeeze her breast in his grasp, his lips suddenly pressed to her shoulder. Schneider hums lowly, pleased.

The jingling of Till's collar is noisy; it's overlapped only by his grunting and deep moaning. Schneider is breathing heavily herself, her lower half alive with fire. Till's hand is firm around her breast, squeezing hard enough it nearly hurts. He likes grabbing her mindlessly, to enjoy her body as much as he is able to, though sometimes it hinders _her_ enjoyment. She touches gently at his wrist as a silent reminder. He lets her go to instead plant his hand against the bed for additional stability.

He uses it to fuck her with sharper thrusts. He drives his shaft harder into her body, with a slight angling of his hips that makes each one as deep as possible; in result, it has his balls pressing against her pussy following each thrust. Schneider moans softly, turned on. She reaches down between her spread legs to cup his balls in a hand. Till grunts and stops. He shoves his cock into her, as deep as he is able. Schneider squeezes them and massages them in a hand, her lips curling into a pleased smile, her bottom lip between her teeth.

Till huffs on top of her, his hands clenching into fists against the sheets. Schneider continues holding his balls, even as he begins to give short, shaky thrusts—she gently rakes her manicured nails across sensitive skin, to tease him. Startling her, Till brings one hand down to begin circling his fingers against her sensitive clit. Legs clenching, Schneider's feet reflexively jerk up, a gasp slipping from her agape mouth. She stops fondling him to instead grasp his wrist. Till bites painfully hard at her shoulder while he resumes thrusting, with more force this time.

Schneider clenches her teeth to restrain her cries as he jerks his hips against her, driving his slick shaft into her body as he rubs fiercely at her clit. She squeezes her eyes shut, her legs locked up and trembling uncontrollably. Till keeps circling his fingers against her flushed pussy until she's gasping sharply and digging her nails into his wrist as a silent command for him to stop. He runs his hand up over her soft belly, squeezing it in his fingers, and then plants his hand against the bed again.

Placing his forehead against the center of her shoulder blades, Till whines. Schneider reaches down to cup his balls—she can tell they've drawn up. She purposefully squeezes her inner muscles around him, which has him whimpering and shoving his hips against her once.

He grunts and nips lovingly at her shoulder and neck. She smiles, hidden by the pillow and her blonde curls. She brings her hand down to begin lightly rubbing at herself. Till, again, readjusts his feet on the bed and bears some of his weight on her, their bodies pressed snug together. Then he begins to thrust with a firm snapping of his hips, which drives his cock deep and hard enough inside of her to strike against her cervix—this time, it _does_ hurt, though it is accompanied by pleasure. She moans into the pillow and continues rubbing at her clit, bearing the rough, forceful thrusts of her pup. His collar jingles noisily, joined by the sounds of their mutual pleasure and the loud, repetitive connection of their bodies.

Till, with his forehead against her shoulder, grunts and pants into her skin as he bucks his hips against her again and again, jerking her forward from the power of it. It doesn't last as long as she anticipated; he only pumps his shaft into her cunt a dozen more times before burying in as deep as he is able. She feels his cock flex inside her, which has her touch alternating from her clit to cupping his tightened balls in a hand. Till whimpers and grunts on top of her.

“Good boy,” Schneider murmurs, feeling his balls clench and his cock jerk inside of her She lets out a breathless moan, incredibly aroused from the feeling and knowledge of him filling her with his seed. She gently squeezes and rubs his balls as they empty out inside her, until Till loudly huffs above her and begins to slowly pull out. Schneider bites her lip—she's so sensitive, just him pulling out has her tensing up. Once his cock slips out and he's drawing back to admire the work he's done, his thick semen immediately gushes out of her.

Schneider cups a hand under herself to catch the lines of cum that begin to drip down. Till moves aside to give the camera a view. He squeezes her thighs in his big hands and then lets out a pleased rumbling noise. Schneider lets out a deep breath and then murmurs, “Clean up your mess, Till.”

Happy to obey, Till spreads her open with his thumbs and then leans in to lap at her pussy that drips thickly with his copious white seed. To keep her face hidden from the camera, Schneider doesn't raise her head to watch, but instead admires Till's body from between her legs—she can see his tongue curl up against her pussy, his jaw and neck flexing. Only when Till pushes his tongue _into_ her sore hole does she gasp and clench her toes. She closes her eyes and silently enjoys the sensation of him licking the cum out of her, until all that's left is his glistening saliva.

When he leans back, licking his lips, he rubs a thumb slowly over her slick cunt. Schneider hums and murmurs with satisfaction, “Good boy.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Mommy has mood swings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! And that this update is kinda short. There will be more coming for this AU, though. From this point on, mostly smut and backstory.
> 
> Warning for physical abuse.

Mommy is having another one of her Bad Days. She has been pacing, cleaning obsessively, repeatedly checking the front door, pulling at her hair, screaming orders at the boys. Richard and Paul followed her around warily, anxious and worried for her, and _by_ her. Till is familiar with this behavior, so he stays far away in his kennel, curled up under his blanket and watching this storm unfold with the empty feeling of security. Ollie and Flake watch from the sectional, avoidant but concerned.

Sometimes, trying to comfort her works, and sometimes it doesn’t. This time, it doesn’t. When Mommy slumps down on her bed, curls up in a ball around a pillow, Richard peeks up past the foot of the bed and sees her laying there, her clothing haphazard on her body, blonde curls a tangled mess. Paul watches from the door of her bedroom, a look of fearful concern on his face, his fingers caught between his teeth.

Richard jumps up onto the bed and reaches out to gently touch her on the hip. Suddenly she rears up like a lion which sleep has been disturbed, and backhands Richard across the face with a strike of her hand. He’s jerked back from the force of it, collapsing off of the bed with a thud onto the carpeted floor. He whines and begins to crawl away, cradling his cheek. Paul flinches back and hides behind the doorframe, peeks out to see Mommy rising from the bed with anger on her makeup-smeared face.

“How dare you touch me,” she snarls, planting a stockinged foot on the floor, then the other, hands in fists by her sides. Her pantyhose is torn in places, her skirt wrinkled and hiked up. Richard looks back at her with apologetic eyes and wobbling lips. He moves to kneel at her feet, but she has no patience for his apologies—she raises a foot to kick him soundly on the shoulder. He falls back onto his elbow, looks up at her pleadingly with fear on his face.

“Can’t you tell I want to be left alone?” Mommy growls with a curled lip, staring down at him with venom in her gaze, “Why must you always ask for something? What do you want _this time?_ I always give you whatever you want, I try my best to make you happy, but you cannot give me one moment to myself. I am so sick of it.”

Richard shakes his head, whines and reaches for her. Paul watches from behind the doorframe while nervously biting at his fingertips as Mommy places her foot against Richard’s chest and shoves him onto his back. Richard looks up at her, scared, his hands raising to curl gently around her calf, trying to placate her through reassuring touch alone. She leans her weight into him, crushing him into the floor, earning a pained grimace from her pup.

“I see I’ll have to punish you again,” Mommy hisses. She digs her heel into his chest as she growls, “Don’t you move from that spot, Richard.”

Then she begins towards her dresser, rips open the top drawer to dig her riding crop out. Richard is shaking, curling up on his side with his hands cupping over his ears, eyes squeezing shut. Paul watches silently, forlorn, as Mommy steps back towards his cowering form, standing over him with menace. She raises the riding crop, knuckles whitened from her grip. Paul flinches at the first strike, the crack filling the room. Richard cries out, whimpers, reaches for her to curl his hands pleadingly around her calves.

Paul peeks past his fingers as Mommy begins to kick him until he stops touching her legs. Richard jerks with every kick, curls up protectively while he cries out. When she raises the riding crop again, Paul retreats into the hallway, followed by the cracking of leather meeting skin. He flinches and hurries to join Till at the kennels. The sound of Richard being beat follows him, all the way to his kennel, even as he bundles up under his blanket and hides himself.

The four pups lay in silence in the living room, bearing the torturous, seemingly endless moment of Richard facing the wrath of Mommy. Only after ten minutes pass, five of which they can hear Mommy scolding him, does Richard come limping out of the bedroom, emerging from the hallway to join the others. The four of them peek over to see him with a tear-stained face, welts covering his back and arms. He crawls lethargically into his kennel, whimpering softly under his breath. Mommy then slams her bedroom door shut, so violently it has them all flinching from the explosive noise.

Paul immediately climbs out of his kennel and sticks his head into Richard’s, collar jingling, watching him curl up atop his doggy bed. He hides his face in his arms. When Paul cautiously steps in and leans in to gently nose at his black hair, Richard peeks up at him past his bicep, his eyes heavy and wet. Paul kisses him on the head and squeezes into the kennel to join him. He presses his forehead against Richard’s head and nuzzles into him. Richard whines.

They both pause when they hear the soft clinking of a collar and the quiet approach of one of the others. They glance over to see Ollie languidly pacing towards them, a hard expression on his face. Paul scoots out of the way when Ollie nudges past him into the kennel. It’s just big enough to barely hold two of them, so Ollie stepping in makes for little room. Richard watches him silently, his eyes vulnerable and lips trembling. Ollie searches in his eyes, conveying something gone unnoticed by Paul through an exchange of eye contact alone. Then he raises a hand to rest it over Richard’s head.

He strokes at his hair, curls his fingers into his black locks, runs them gingerly across his shoulder—a comforting touch. Richard reaches up to grab onto his hand. He presses his face into his palm, nuzzles into it. Paul smiles from where he sits, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wound around his legs. Richard clings to Ollie’s hand, while Ollie lets him, silently.

Eventually, Richard lets him go, looks up at him with sad eyes and a sadder smile. Ollie leans into the kennel further to peck him on the forehead, and then he’s stepping out again and approaching the double doors leading out into the backyard, taking a seat in the sun to watch the sky. Richard looks at Paul pleadingly. Paul happily crawls closer and lays down beside him, as best as he can considering the limited space. Richard draws his arm around Paul’s belly, leans into him and presses his cheek to his chest—the tag on his collar is cool against Paul’s skin. Paul begins petting at his hair.

 

* * *

 

Four hours later, Mommy emerges from her bedroom with an audible creak of the door, followed by footsteps. The five pups are arranged around the couch, silently keeping each other company as they wait for her return. They watch the hallway until Mommy comes into the living room, her hair brushed again, wearing a casual shirt and comfortable pyjama pants. She rakes her hand up through her blonde locks as she glances over to see her boys watching her from the sectional. Richard ducks back down to hide against Paul, who curls an arm around him protectively. Till jumps down to pace into his kennel. Again, he buries under his blanket to hide and withdraw from the situation.

Mommy doesn’t say anything. She steps into the kitchen. The remaining three pups watch her warily, unsure whether to approach her or give her space. She cracks open the fridge. She begins pulling out food. Paul and Ollie continue watching while Flake just rests his head back down on his claimed couch pillow, no longer caring.

For a while, the sound of Mommy using a knife against the solid surface of a cutting board fills the house, joined by the clang of her setting up pans for cooking. This is a relief. When she’s having a bad day, she sometimes doesn’t feed them. She works silently. Soon the sound of sizzling fills the house. Paul licks his lips, watching, wide-eyed. Richard peeks his head up to watch, coaxed in by the smell and sound of food cooking.

Till doesn’t move from his kennel. Paul is tempted to go up and beg for scraps, but knows better than to right now.

 

An hour later, after cooking up six portions worth, she’s dividing the food and stepping around the corner to set their bowls down, two at a time, with the recognizable sound of stainless steel against hardwood flooring.

“Come, boys,” she says, snapping her fingers. Till crawls out from his kennel, while Flake and Ollie climb down from the couch to approach. Paul unravels himself from around Richard and nuzzles into his hair before helping him down from the couch. Richard winces and limps a bit towards the kitchen. Paul paces by his side patiently, restraining his own enthusiasm to eat for Richard’s sake. When they join the others at the bowls, Paul waits for Richard to begin eating before he lowers his head to do the same.

 

Once the food is consumed and the bowls are taken away and washed, Mommy paces out into the living room where the boys all meandered back into, to relax after having a filling meal. Placing her hands on her hips, Mommy speaks up, earning alert glances from her pups.

“I want everyone to go and lay in bed for now. I want to speak with Richard alone.”

Paul shifts closer to Richard, pulls him into his arms with a pouting look directed towards Mommy. He doesn’t want her to hurt him again. Richard whines. Mommy frowns at Paul, while the other three obediently take their leave. Till casts a glance towards Mommy, hesitant and yearning, before he ducks his head and follows Flake and Ollie into their shared bedroom. Mommy stares unwaveringly at Paul, arms crossed, standing there patiently with a stony look on her face, until Paul reluctantly lets Richard go and despondently paces into the hallway to join the others in the bedroom. He sits at the slightly ajar bedroom door, peeks out to watch the other two.

Mommy moves to kneel in front of Richard. Richard flinches, turns his head away with his shoulders curling in.

“You know Mommy gets overwhelmed sometimes,” she says, softly spoken to prevent being heard by the others. She reaches out to run her painted fingernails through his black locks, gently raking them back behind his ears, showing his face to her. Richard is still and silent, frozen with apprehension.

“Anger has cruel control over me at times,” Mommy says, “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not angry anymore, honey. Will you let me hold you again?”

A moment of silence passes. Richard peeks up at her past his limp black locks and searches her faintly smiling face. He was afraid, seeing her again, but after these words have been said, that fear reverts back into that adoration, that need for love. He nods weakly. He shifts closer, slightly, head bowed. She reaches for him. He leans into her embrace. Mommy draws her arms around him and pulls him closer to herself. He collapses into her, and she falls back unsteadily onto an elbow because of his weight—she laughs lightly, shocked. They end up partially laying back upon the carpeted living room floor.

“Mommy is sorry she scared you,” she whispers, stroking at his black locks with one slender hand. Richard nuzzles into her chest, wraps his arms around her tightly. He kneels over her, bowing his body to clutch her to himself. Desperate. She continues caressing his hair. He can hear her heartbeat, a steady, deep sound. It comforts him. It overwhelms him. The crushed feeling of being hurt by her rears up again, evoked by her sudden comforting. Tears bead in his eyes, his face hidden from her gaze.

He whimpers softly, squeezes his arms around her. She draws her arm around him, fanning her fingers across his bicep, clutching him close to herself. She shushes him softly, and then begins to lay down on her back, so she can bring her other hand up to begin petting at him again. Richard clings to her, moves to lay beside her more comfortably.

“You’re a good boy, Richard,” Mommy whispers, “You’re so sweet, and I know I hurt you. I love you. I always will.”

When she curls two elegant fingers under his jaw and tips his head back, she sees the tears running down his face and the way his eyes are undeniably vulnerable, his bottom lip trembling. She softens slightly, clicking her tongue with sympathy. Mommy rubs his tears away with her thumb and then holds the side of his head as she cranes her head to kiss his mouth. Richard whines against her lips. He mashes his mouth hungrily, desperately against hers. Mommy kisses him gently, in return. It has him calming down. Their lips move together in a tender back and forth, a passionate overlapping that has Richard whimpering against her mouth.

Mommy pulls away slowly to meet his eyes. Richard clings to her, looks at her with need. A slight smile grows on Mommy’s kissed lips. She pecks him on the forehead and says softly, “You can sleep with me tonight, sweetheart. Would you like that?”

He nods vigorously and then leans in to nuzzle into her chest. She begins petting at his messy dark locks again. They remain laying there, cuddling tightly, with Richard occasionally whining into her chest, fingers clutching tightly at her sweater. Mommy traces the welts and bruises on his body with delicate fingertips. It hurts, but it feels like she’s apologizing through every stroke, so Richard doesn’t wiggle away.

 

* * *

 

It’s raining. The unrelenting torrent of raindrops beat against the roof, the back porch, the windows, the glass paneled door. The boys are all rowdy, pacing around and howling and pawing at the back door. Rain excites them. Paul is pacing back and forth in front of the porch door, watching the rain with wide, excited eyes, his collar jingling as he trots around anxiously. Ollie is seated at the wide window in the kitchen, staring out into the backyard with intrigue. Flake has his face pressed to the glass, watching his exhales fog up the window. Richard is seated on the carpet of the living room, watching the rain and brief flashes of lightning from where he sits. Till is kneeling at Mommy’s door in the hallway, patiently. Mommy is in her room, on the phone.

This continues for another five minutes—the howling, the jingling of collars, the scrape-tap-tap-tapping at the backdoor—before suddenly Mommy’s door is thrown open, startling Till. Then she’s shouting without even bothering to look down at Till, “If you don’t quiet down, you won’t be going outside at all! Shut your mouths and let me finish this phone call!”

The whining and howling, the pawing at the door, all weakens to silence, immediately. Then she slams the door shut again. Till frowns, dejected she didn’t acknowledge him. The other four are noticeably more quiet as they watch the rain. Paul stops pacing and joins Richard in the living room. He flops down beside him and huffs loudly, impatiently, training his gaze on the falling rain beyond the backdoor. Richard looks down at him. Ollie remains seated at the window, perched atop his typical spot, on the pillow. Flake goes to lap at his water bowl in the kitchen.

Ten more agonizing minutes pass, until _finally,_ Mommy’s door cracks open again and she’s pacing out. Till perks up and follows after her quickly, collar jingling. She glances down at him and manages a slight smile. Till beams, pleased. She begins towards the backdoor. Paul gets up and races out to beat her to it. He begins jumping up and down excitedly with thrusts of his hands against the floor, looking up at her with bright, wide eyes and a broad smile. Richard follows him, eagerly. The five boys all move in to crowd around her legs. Mommy laughs and says, “Don’t ruin Mommy’s flowers, okay? Stay only on the grass. Understand?”

All of her pups nod vigorously, and then she’s unlocking the door with a snap of the lock before drawing it open. The boisterous pattering of the rain fills the house as the boys race out onto the patio with a great big deal of noise. Mommy nearly trips when Paul nudges himself in-between her legs to squeeze out onto the back porch. She laughs and steps out of the way. They’re all barking now, running for the grassy area. Richard begins chasing Till. Paul runs along the fence, while Ollie tips his head back and sticks his tongue out. Flake catches up with Paul and tackles him to the ground.

For maybe twenty minutes they all play around in the grass, the rain beating down on them, until they become too chilled and run back up the steps of the porch to crowd around the glass-paneled backdoor. Mommy had been seated at the window where Ollie usually lingers, watching them with a smile. She stands at their arrival and approaches the door to draw it open a crack, if only to say firmly, “Once I let you in, I don’t want you entering the living room, or the hallway. You are to stay in the kitchen. I don’t want the carpet getting dirty.”

With chattering teeth, they all nod. She opens the door. They eagerly filter in, dripping water everywhere across the hardwood floor. Flake slips and collapses, evoking a sharp, laugh-like noise from Paul. Flake shoves him. Slipping himself, Paul slams back against the kitchen cabinets. He growls, baring his teeth, and lunges for Flake. They start wrestling, while the other pups warily step aside to avoid the altercation.

“Hey!” Schneider snaps, slamming the door shut and locking it again, “Knock it off!”

Paul growls at Flake as he obediently, reluctantly climbs off of him. Flake feints at him. Paul snarls, baring his teeth. Till reaches out to grab Paul’s bicep. Paul lets Till manhandle him; he pulls him easily into his lap. Paul splats against him and clings, grumbling under his breath. And then Richard shakes his head vigorously, his black locks wildly sending a spray of water across the floor and lower kitchen cabinets—and onto the others. Schneider sighs. She grabs three big, fluffy towels from the kitchen counter and throws one at Ollie, Flake, and Richard, and then grabs the other two to toss them at Paul and Till.

“Dry off,” Schneider orders, crossing her arms, “And then the dirtiest of you will have to take baths… Paul, Flake. Richard.”

Getting up from Till’s lap, Paul whines loudly in protest and wraps his towel around himself, hiding his head under the fluffy fabric. Schneider smiles faintly, amused. The others are silent as they dry themselves off—albeit, clumsily. Mommy usually dries them off.

“Once baths are dealt with,” she continues softly, watching them dry each other off with a fond smile, “I can read to you all, if you’d like.”

Richard, Ollie, and Flake beam up at her with enthusiasm. Till shows subtle excitement by looking up at Mommy with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised under his long, jet black bangs. Paul continues grumbling to himself as he vigorously ruffles his hair with his towel—obviously still displeased with the concept of a bath.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com
> 
> My wonderful friend Lou drew this [beautiful artwork](https://haifisch-ohne-traenen.tumblr.com/post/173139017512/the-queen-and-her-royal-pups-mein-teil-fanart) inspired by this AU; thank you so much bb I LOVE it ♡


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